


Tomb Raider: The New Order

by bubble_bones



Category: Tomb Raider & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2020-10-01 18:35:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 46,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20367505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubble_bones/pseuds/bubble_bones
Summary: A sequel to Tomb Raider: Angel of Darkness.Sixth months following the events in Prague, Lara Croft is disillusioned and lost. She may have defeated creatures of great darkness, the Black Alchemist and his Sleeper, but that does not change her status as a wanted criminal for the false identification as the serial killer, the Monstrum. Desperate for a path to redemption, Lara tries to hunt down the one man that might improve her chances, a one mysterious Kurtis Trent. Finding him, however, proves to lead to its own rabbit hole.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, inspired by the lovely Meldelen as well as the wonderful members of the TRAoD community, here is my own take on potential events following the end of AoD! Certain characters, like Alister and Raoul, might not be everyone's cup of tea in canon, but since they had very little personality in their respective media, I've given them a new take (mostly keeping only their names as little references). Please enjoy, and I apologise in advance if I'm slow at updates!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poster is made by me, check out my tumblr for more Lartis renders!  
(angel-in-shadow.tumblr.com)

#

Home. It is bittersweet to say the word for Lara Croft; the one place she feels truly safe, where she allows herself to give into vulnerability and familiarity. It doesn't feel like that anymore. As she walks the halls, she sees shadows where there is nothing but warmth, feels cold in light. Nowhere is safe anymore, not when she is believed to be the monster behind a string of gruesome murders across Europe - the title of the _Monstrum_ weights heavy, despite its ownership being utterly false.

In recent months, the police have visited Lara's home in Surrey. Thankfully, not a single time they have been has she been home. They have turned the place upside down on multiple occasions, searching for evidence to further pin her for the murders. Thus far, her connection to Werner Von Croy remains their only scrap of information that may incriminate her - and yet, they have no one else to blame. The Cabal are not public knowledge, and they cover their tracks well. What remains of them have nestled their way into the woodwork like insects, and try as she might, Lara can't find a trace.

But if she cannot find the darkness, then she'll track down the light - her one-time partner and ally, the mysterious Kurtis Trent, didn't have the decency to say goodbye once she had defeated Eckhart, the true Monstrum. What she returned to was blood and a weapon; his mysterious discus, which for the life of her she couldn't figure out how to operate. When she had first touched it all those months ago, it had a life of its own, pulling her into the encroaching darkness of a tunnel that led her to a world waking, blissfully unaware of the hell it had just narrowly missed seeing come to life. Since then, the weapon has been still and silent, as if it was content with its mission accomplished. She has taken matters into her own hands.

To that end, a month ago, she contacted the University of Oxford. Not officially, of course - that would only cause trouble - and was introduced to a man named Alister Fletcher. A self-proclaimed expert in any and all things mythical and historical, particularly European, he expressed a great interest in the Lux Veritatis. She had little to offer him from her past exchanges with Kurtis, but the moment he laid eyes on his strange weapon, Alister had eagerly promised results in information digging. It was a long shot, since if she knew anything about Kurtis, it was that he was estranged from the ancient order - still, there was not much else she could do.

Being lost is not something Lara has ever done well. After returning from Prague, she cannot stop feeling disillusioned and unsure, and admittedly very afraid for being tried in court for a horrifying crime she did not commit. Who would believe her if she spoke of cults and angels, and an alchemist that has been alive for thousands of years imprisoned by a dead order of once-glorified Templars? She sees the way Winston looks at her, that look of concern and fear in his wizened eyes. She tries not to think about it, for if she loses her nerve now, when she still has one option left...

The door to the library is set open with an ornate elephant sculpture. She doesn't even bother to sigh in annoyance - she has told Zip too many times that artefacts are not to be used as doorstops, and her patience ran out long ago. There's none of it left to ask him not to move things, anymore. When she had begun her hunt, she didn't have the will or knowledge to scour the internet for information she could use; and so, she called upon an old friend, the very talented hacker and technical genius that goes by the simple codename "Zip." He'd helped Lara revamp her technology, increasing security in the manor - especially storage for relics the world should never see again - as well as keeping her in contact with Alister no matter where her hunt might take her. At Lara's request, they'd also made adjustments to the manor, subtly as to not draw attention with construction. As well as installing a basic and rather hideous elevator between floors in the stairwell - for Winston's sake - Zip also needed a place to work, so an area of the study was now dedicated to wires, monitors, computers - and, to Alister's chagrin, snack wrappers and energy drink cans. Zip was young, and his great love for blasting music and rowdy attitude drove the researcher insane.

The obnoxiously loud rap music is turned down when she enters, immediately, almost like a naughty child caught doing something he shouldn't. Zip sits up in his chair, waves over his computer monitor.

"Hey, girl! What's wrong?" he chuckles nervously at the last part, giving her a lopsided grin. His pearly white teeth are as bright as he pretends the invisible halo above his head is.

Alister slams a book shut. "You're what is what's wrong! I'm trying to do genuine, _important_ work here, and all you do all day is play those stupid video games or- or you have that music ludicrously loud!"

"Look man, you got your thing, I got mine. Chillax?"

He seems positively baffled. "C-Chillax? _Chillax_? I am a man hell-bent on recovering information on a dead order of mythical knights all but wiped from the texts of history and you ask me to chillax?" he spits the word like it's venom. To his Oxford Dictionary, it probably is.

Halfway during Alister's speech, the volume of the music went back up.

Alister turns to Lara aghast, mouth agape and glasses almost falling off his nose. For a man of only twenty-eight years, the wrinkles under his eyes and creases in his forehead suit a man double, if not triple that age.

Ignoring his silent outrage, Lara asks calmly, "Have you found anything?"

She had just returned to the manor after hiding out in a remote town in southern Germany for a few weeks, full of friendly faces and chipper folk. The people there were becoming too familiar with her, and if Alister had nothing to share now, she would have to find a new place to go into hiding for a while. As much as she loved travelling, she was tiring of moving from place to place only to be stuck there for unknown lengths of time.

Alister's face changes so quickly she wonders if he cares at all about Zip's music tastes. Delighted, he beckons her over to his desk, crowded with books, papers, various news articles. There's a mock-up name plaque on his desk that reads, "Dr. Alister Fletcher," a welcome gift from Zip that had driven the researcher insane - a man yet to actually finish his dissertation, Alister is both desperate and reluctant to finally earn his doctorate. Its metal is dented on one edge from the time Alister threw it at him.

He sits in his chair excitedly, almost falling into it, and spins his laptop around to face her. Her brow quirks, and she leans down to read. On the small screen there's an image, a rather blurry and low-quality photograph. It appears to be some sort of paper, old and worn, edges ripped and writing faded. Still, it only takes a split second to recognise the symbol at the top, scrawled unmistakably in black ink: the crest of the Lux Veritatis.

"Where did you find this?" she asks hastily. She does not allow herself the pleasure of excitement, not yet - but this is the first real information they'd had in months.

She hadn't noticed the music had turned back down again until Zip strolls over, hands buried in the pockets of his oversized hoodie.

"_I_ found it, if we're going by facts." he shrugs, and points Alister with a glare. "'Cuz, you know, that's what we're working with here. Facts. Knowledge. All that stuff."

Alister waves a hand, shushing him. "Yes, yes, we get it, ego larger than the sun," then, he turns excitedly back to her. "Isn't it wonderful, Lara? A real, breathing piece of Lux Veritatis scripture!"

"Paper can't breathe, buddy."

"Will you _please_ be quiet?"

Zip, in fact, does not. "I went digging where I shouldn't, ya know, as usual." he rubs his nose with a finger, trying - and failing - to hide his smug smile. "There are some black market auctions going on at the minute from across Europe, all sorts of goodies. Wasn't exactly looking for it, but I saw that picture and Alister freaked out."

"For good reason," Lara murmurs, and no matter how close she peers to the laptop monitor, the image remains irritatingly blurred. "When and where is this auction happening, do you know?"

The young American snorts, "Of course I know." he wiggles his shoulders, grinning like a child. "It's gonna go down while a fancy-pantsy party's happening on top, keep it secret, ya know? It'll be in Milan, in one of those dressy, _'I'm-better-than-you,' 'No, I'm better than you!'_ kinda gigs. Get me?"

Strangely, she says yes. For someone who claims Alister is hard to understand, Zip tends to use too many words to say what he needs to.

"If it's in Milan," she says, thoughtfully putting a hand to her chin, "That means the Italian Mafia are involved in this, if not in charge of the whole event. That might make this tricky."

"How so?" Alister pries, and gazes down at the screen affectionately, as if desperate to see the documents for himself.

Lara sighs, and briefly explains her tense relationship with the Italian Mafia. Her one-time rival, Marco Bartoli, may be dead and buried, but allies might remain that still seek her head. Yet, as far as she is aware, he operated out of the regions to the north-east of Italy - perhaps the mafia of Milan will be friendlier than their Venetian cousins.

"If you're plannin' on waltzin' in there and buying the thing, you'd be nuts." Zip crunches something between his teeth, swallows, and continues, "The things that sell on the black market go for crazy numbers. You're gonna come back bankrupt."

With a smile, Lara gazes at the laptop, sees the symbol of the Lux Veritatis through the rough pixels, and then closes it.

"Who said anything about buying?"

**-**

Almost silently, Lara peruses her wardrobe. It's practically full, though most clothes in there are reiterations of the same practical clothing; differing comfortable shirts, trousers and shorts made of good fabrics with strong seams; several pairs of boots made of flexible leather; various different coats and jackets so she is prepared no matter her destination. However, for today, she goes to the end of the rack - a place she never goes - to where her dresses hang.

She owns many dresses - a lot of them she has kept in here and never worn for years, some going on a decade. On various occasions, like this one, she is forced to dress up to camouflage into her surroundings, and it makes her uncomfortable to no end. She hates the tight, constricting skirts and plunging necklines that display her cleavage as if she doesn't give a care who sees her. Outfits like these remind her of her teen years, treated like a porcelain doll by her parents, dressed up in pretty clothes and shown off to relatives at stuffy parties. Once she was yelled at for hours by her mother for going to play tag with the boys at a family gathering - she'd ruined her dress, and enjoyed it thoroughly.

Her hands still on the two dresses on the rack. She isn't even looking at them anymore, but down at her feet, on the shadows cast by her own body. What do her parents think of her now? They never approved of her lifestyle as it was, but now that she is on the run for being considered a murderer, a butcher? When people ask about their "little Lara," do they tell them they have no daughter? She wonders if they even consider her to exist anymore.

A hand settles on her arm. Startled, she spins around, and within a second the pistol in the second drawer down is in her hand. After a second, her racing heart calms, and she lowers her weapon, ashamed at herself when she sees the petrified look in Winston's eyes at the end of the barrel.

"I'm sorry, Winston." she murmurs, and shakily sets the pistol down on a dresser with a _thunk_. "You scared me."

After a moment, Winston clears his throat. "It's alright, Miss Croft. I merely wanted to check if you were alright - you looked distraught."

_I am._ she nearly blurts. But Winston is already worried - too worried for a man his age. She can't confide in him, as much as he encourages it. He shouldn't have to look after her. In fact, she should be the one taking care of him, with how feeble he has been as of late. So she keeps her mouth shut, burns holes into the dresser's top with a hard stare, and tries to still how shaky her hands are. She feels wrong. When will this uncertainty end?

"Would you like me to pick an outfit out for you?" Winston's quiet voice asks.

She steps back, and nods. "Yes please." she says weakly. She hates how meek she sounds.

Silent, she tries not to think. Lately, that has proven to only make matters worse, making her madly scared - thusly, uncomfortable. When she had Kurtis at her side, things went more smoothly; she had a goal then, a plan, and the means to execute it. There was a story to unravel, a plot that ran deeper than any of them to understand - the war between Nephili and Veritatis had been centuries in the running, and Lara once more felt like herself when she felt her own curiosity peak with each new piece of information. She had wished to ask Kurtis so much more than she had opportunity to in the airlock - so little time, so few options.

Now, she feels like she is constantly scrambling in the dark, looking for a scrap of something, _anything_ that might give her hope. If Kurtis survived, then things must be great for him - he doesn't have to deal with the repercussions of being accused as something he is not. There is some guilt in wanting to track him down and drag him back into the mess left behind, but it is not her problem. If anything, the Black Alchemist - and by extension - is the problem of his mysterious Order, and she should not have to take the damage of their mistakes alone. She does not know what she plans to do when she finds him, nor does she know how he can help. But he _must_.

Winston's voice breaks her silence. "What do you think of this one?" he asks, and lifts his shaky arm to show off a long evening gown which brushes the floor, in a deep red tone, like the colour of wine. Its back is open, but on the front there is very little of a plunging neckline. Up one side of the dress, there is a long slit - it would make it easier to move, she thinks. She can hardly imagine how one would explain it is a fashion statement, however.

"It's perfect." she agrees, and puts on her most convincing smile. In truth, it is perfect - she just cannot summon the strength to give him the reassurance he needs that she is alright. She is not, not at all.

It is enough - he smiles back. As the butler contentedly potters about the various closets and dressers for accessories to match, Lara draws an arm up to rub the other, brow creased in thought. Then, she swiftly corrects herself, dropping her arms to her sides - she is never one to display vulnerability, and she really should stop thinking about worrying matters until she has to face them.

Winston passes her with a pair of uncomfortable-looking heels in his hand, and stops when he sees her. His free hand comes up, skin pale and wrinkled, and taps at her chin, tipping her head up.

"Now, now," he begins, with a gentle and warm smile, "I've never seen you so defeated. Where's the world-famous Lara Croft confidence?"

It's a simple attempt, but now she gives in to a small, but genuine smile. At the sight of it, Winston's grows into a grin, and happily hobbles off to continue preparations for her outfit. Looking up, she catches her own reflection in the mirror - under her eyes are dark circles, her skin looks strangely pale and sickly, and she feels physically _wrong_. Lara feels angry looking at herself.

She helps Winston pack her things, and he expertly packs away weaponry into a tiny clutch purse. For now, she remains in comfortable clothes - she would get ready on the way to Milan. There's a moment of silence as Winston reaches into his tailcoat pocket - she had told him so many times there was no need to dress up in such an old fashioned way - and lifts something up towards her. Curious, she extends a hand, and a weighty pocket watch drops into her palm. The chain follows, and settles around the clock face against her skin. The silver is rusted and scratched, but remarkably, the hands still move.

"I've carried this with me through wars and battles, Lara," he says faintly, and closes her fingers over the trinket, "Take it with you."

Immediately, she shakes her head. "No, Wiston, I can't-"

"Yes you can, and you will. It was a good luck charm for me, and I wouldn't have you going out there to face the world without one." he smiles again - so warm, so gentle, so much more than her own father ever was. "Please Lara, for me; take it with you. Give this old man some peace of mind."

Defeated, Lara's eyes soften, and her hand balls into a tight fist around his old pocket watch. If helping him sleep at night was as simple as carrying this with her, she would take it, a million times.

"I'll be back, Winston, don't worry." Lara promises. And she means it - she will not let herself be defeated by a dead man. Never.


	2. Chapter 2

Above the glistening city of Milan flies the helicopter belonging to a man who has spent far too much time in his life being nice enough to practically never say no. Tonight, Raoul flies the helicopter for a very special client, however; years ago, this very same client saved his life, and to offer thanks, she asked him to save a future favour for her. Now, Lara Croft - or as she is calling herself tonight, Lady Victoria Gray, a member of the British bourgeoisie with little to no importance - finally called upon that favour. Raoul isn't the type to judge a book by its cover, especially if he's read the blurb, and he knows for certain that she isn't the murderer the authorities claim, and so he gave her the benefit of the doubt. Besides, taking a trip over Italy for a night isn't exactly the worst of things she could've asked him to do.

"If you could find somewhere to set us down out of sight, I can make my own way to where we need to be." Lara's voice comes from behind the wall dividing cockpit and cabin. He keeps his eyes focused on the job, and smacks Zip over the back of the head when he obliviously turns to look - she's currently dressing for the evening.

Raoul reaches up to flick some switches. "Got it, I'll try to find somewhere secluded."

Zip pouts, and rubs the back of his head. He slouches down in his seat, laptop on his lap sliding with him. The two have worked together before, both brought together by Lara, but never have they both been in the field with her like this. The kid had wanted to see the black market auction himself, and Lara had offered him the next best; she'd describe it to him while he stayed out of danger looking out at the city.

Dressed and sufficiently ladylike - ironically, her mother would be very pleased to see her like this - Lara steps up into the cockpit. The city unfolds beneath them like a gorgeous map of bright streets and shimmering lights down below. It's such a shame she's at ends with the Italian Mafia; she would love to visit here more often.

"Alright, let's test these bad boys out!" Zip excitedly extends to Lara a very small and subtle ear bud. It's so small in fact she's worried it'll disappear down her ear when she puts it in, but it feels wide enough at the top not to go missing. "And this too, this is your mic. Put it under your necklace and people won't even be able to tell."

Underneath her choker, she fastens the thin black cord around her neck, and when she taps it Zip cringes a little, and adjusts volumes. He only does a few tests to ensure they can hear one another and then he's content.

Raoul snorts beside him. "You somehow have internet up here in the clouds and you have a tab of porn on your browser open?"

Indignant, Zip slaps his laptop shut. "Eyes on the skies, buddy!"

"Play nice, you two. I'll need you on your sharpest." Lara pats them both on the shoulders, and returns to the cabin.

Lara feels sufficiently uncomfortable in this dress. It's tight and constrictive around her chest and waist, and feels like even the smallest amount of wind would send the skirt in any and all directions. Still, if it helps her blend in long enough to find those Lux Veritatis documents, then it would be sufficient.

Raoul sets the helicopter down in the outskirts of the city. It would be a bit of a trek to the auction, especially in these shoes; she checks Winston's pocket watch, and thankfully, they have some time before it begins. She'd rather be in and out with the documents before items even begin to be listed, but only time would tell if that would be in the cards.

Confused, Zip comes out to meet her as she clambers down from the cargo door. "What's the plan then?" he asks, as she takes off her heels against damp grass. In the distance, behind the bushes of the field they're landed in, the city glows against the night sky.

"Simple." Lara shrugs, and begins trekking across the field. "Watch a woman work, Zip."

Flabbergasted, Zip throws his arms up in the air as she grows smaller against the landscape. "Well just make sure your communicators are on!" he yells in defeat, and retreats to the helicopter.

It doesn't take long until Lara steps out onto a road; it's lit with periodic street lamps, buzzing with an orange glow. Not many cars pass in and out of the city here in this small dual carriageway, and she waits out of sight as the first few vehicles that pass are heavy transport trucks. Eventually, a small, rusty pick-up passes by, and she waves him down. Surprisingly, he stops immediately - then again, she is a rather attractive woman in a revealing dress in the middle of nowhere at night. It's not the most glamorous ride into the auction, but it will have to do.

The window rolls down, to reveal an overweight middle-aged man, with dark hair whitening at the tips. He leans across, and gives her a toothy grin.

"Lost, lovely signorina?" he asks, in deep but scratchy Italian.

"Not quite," she replies in kind, "I'm looking to go into the city. Would you take me?"

If possible, his smile grows wider. He pats the seat beside him.

Politely, she says, "Thank you, signore." and opens the truck door. She settles down beside him, putting her shoes back on her feet and keeping her purse close on her lap.

As they begin to drive, light coming and going with each lamp flashing by over head, she notices him glancing at her. At first, it is easy to ignore, and she tells herself it is not worth getting into deeper mess over. Yet, it continues, and before they've even passed the city's welcome sign, she grows increasingly annoyed at the way his eyes roam up and down her body as if she can't tell. When they come to a stop at a set of lights, he leans her way.

"Where are you from?" he asks. An innocent enough question, if she had been completely oblivious to how close he comes. His breath stinks.

"Not here." she responds, simply. She turns away, hoping to breathe in the fresh air outside over the smell coming from him.

He clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes. "Now, now, surely you can be a bit more talkative? After all, I'm doing you a favour, here," his hand moves towards her, and it hasn't even reached her before she reacts in a split second: a pistol leaves her purse, and there's a click as she pulls the safety back. It presses under his jaw.

"Drive. No more questions." Lara snaps, and he nods hastily. He puts his foot down hard on the pedal, and they move as soon as the lights change. As they grow closer to the city, she lowers it out of sight, but keeps a hold of it on the seat beside her, just in case he forgets just who he has in his vehicle.

**-**

She gets out a few blocks away from where the auction will take place. Her pistol is once more safely tucked inside her purse, and her driver has yet to stop shaking like a leaf. With a few clicks of her heels, she steps down onto pavement, and turns back to look at the man who is clutching his steering wheel so tight his knuckles show white.

"Thank you for the ride," she says, chipper. "And a suggestion, signore - if you're going to offer women rides in the future, don't make them so uncomfortable they show you the insides of their purse."

The pudgy man nods quickly, and she gives him a smile. As soon as she shuts the door after herself, he speeds off down the well-lit road. The buildings here look as if they could be made from gold with how shiny the lights make them appear. Like many European cities, the streets here blend the traditional with the modern, the outdated but beautiful architecture with the new and simple. As she walks the streets, she can't help but give in some to her curiosity, but a few murmurs from Zip through the earpiece is enough to remind her of caution.

She takes a turn, and arrives on a street lined with beautiful buildings that are as picturesque to be out of a children's book. Yet, after the events in Paris and Prague, she knows all too well that pretty landscapes hide the ugliest realities - and here, it is the Italian Mafia hiding in the dark. Further down the street, she can see a crowd of people in similar ensemble to herself, formal clothes and glittering gowns, queuing outside one of these buildings, a taller one than the rest. Under initial glance, it appears like a hotel, every floor lit with tall windows and decorated with ornate sculptures and parapets. At the entrance, expensive cars pull in and their owners toss keys at valets in typical red suits. Lara cannot help but roll her eyes at the extravagance of it all.

_"So, what now? We just gonna line up, stand around like a lemon?"_ Zip asks in her ear, and she tosses a strand of hair over her shoulder as she moves to cross the street.

"Don't be silly." is her only response, as she calmly walks straight to the front of the queue. Zip is profusely announcing how poor of an idea it is, but she pretends not to hear him - these communication devices are both a blessing and a curse. She wonders how angry he would be if she turned it off to work in silence.

A man in a black suit stops her. She can't see his eyes for the sunglasses he wears - who wears sunglasses at night? - but she sees his brow quirks in a silent question.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry," she stutters, and she hears Zip splutter on the other end. He clearly wasn't expecting the very docile voice that left her. "I'm Victoria Smith, my husband is waiting for me inside. Silly me left my purse in the car, I just came out to collect it."

For a moment, the grizzled security guard doesn't move. Then, his squared shoulders sag and he sighs.

"You dumb Brits always tripping over your own feet." he mutters, as if he had been quiet enough for her to not hear. At least, she pretends not to. He lifts the rope from the pole beside him, and lets her through. She gives him an overly grateful nod and smile, and passes by.

Zip sounds like he's in disbelief. "_Okay, that was way too easy._"

"We've only cleared the first hurdle." she says softly. "Besides, now they'll be watching me."

"_Won't anyone recognise you, though?_"

"Oh of course. It's only a matter of time."

Inside, the halls are almost literally lined with gold. The walls are decorated with ornate wooden panels, perhaps oak or some other such expensive material, and the shiny floors under her feet click like marble. It's all very grand and ostentatious, with luxurious crystal chandeliers hanging from high, arched ceilings that are painted with scenes depicting various angelic figures breaking through clusters of clouds in the sky. She tries not to show how incredibly ugly she thinks it all is.

As she steps inside, a gentleman in a red waistcoat and bowtie, a waiter, offers her a glass from a tray. She takes it, and sips at the flute of champagne as she enters a large hall where guests seem to cluster and socialise. A few give her curious looks as she passes through, and pretends to be looking for someone so as to not draw attention. Zip talks to her as she goes.

"_Alright, if the plan is still crazy enough to steal this thing-_"

"It is." someone nearby glances at her, and she smiles sweetly.

Zip groans. "_Fine. Your funeral. Anyway, if you're gonna stand a chance at getting it, you're gonna need to crack the safe where the goodies are kept until auction. From the scans of the building, the thing's massive - you're not gonna get in there without a proper plan._"

For a time, she stands at the edge of the room, surveying for options. Curious, she follows corridors that lead off into more rooms where there are yet more guests - she wonders how full this place will be once the line outside filters in. Just how many are these people are here for the auction? This hall, however, has a flat ceiling decorated with painted medallions, placed around each hanging light that glitters above. Near the walls on either side, she spots strange metallic grates that stick out rarely poorly, and make the eyesore of a room feel more like real people have had to design it with some practicality in mind.

She brings her glass to her lips, but doesn't drink. It provides a nice cover for moving lips.

"There are vents in one of the smaller halls to the left of the main hall. Do they lead anywhere I can access?" she takes a sip once she's done talking.

"_Uh... Give me a minute to check, won't take long._"

It feels like someone is watching her, but she isn't too worried - she's been collecting stares since she entered. Still, she glances about and most she meets eyes with immediately turn away. She doesn't linger in one spot for long because of it, drifting about the room. There's so many people here it would be difficult to keep track of a particular person in the crowd.

"_Got it!_" Zip announces excitedly from the other end, where he sits comfortably in the helicopter overlooking the city. "_How convenient - those vents can be accessed by the bathrooms, _and _they go through the entire freakin' building! Hope you brought a screwdriver._"

"A woman is always prepared." she murmurs with a smile. She'd have to thank Winston for knowing her almost _too_ well for tonight.

There's some clicking through her earpiece - Zip's keyboard.

"_Okay,_" he says, "_The particular 'item' we're after is listed to be the fifth item brought out. Bet these idiots don't even know what it is!_"

In the background, she hears a faint, "_You don't even know what it is, idiot._" from Raoul, and Zip lets out an indignant shout.

"I assure you they most likely do; they wouldn't put a high price tag on it otherwise." quietly, Lara retrieves Winston's pocket watch and checks the time. "When does it start?"

"_You got thirty minutes._"

**-**

Lara avoids talking to anyone she passes. She has no time to waste, but can't risk being recognised if she stops to ask anyone where she can find the bathroom. Eventually, she'll come across it - sooner hopefully, over later - as a place with this many members of the public must have more than one nearby.

Again, she feels like there are eyes on her. She stops, abruptly. Her skin tingles, like a gentle breeze passes by that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. _Something_ is going on, she doesn't need to be a genius to figure that out. After seeing enough supernatural occurrences during her time in Prague, she's not a woman who refuses belief anymore. She's compelled to look over her shoulder. Something behind her _begs_ for her attention.

Suddenly, her gaze caught. For a split second, between the heads of strangers in the crowd, she saw a ghost. Piercing blue eyes under a few loose strands of dark hair stare at her, and for the very short moment their eyes are locked, she feels like there's no one else in the space between them; just her, and him. There was a question in those eyes - a strange type of curiosity. The same look she faced when she spotted those eyes not-so-subtly peering over a newspaper in a dim café in Paris, the same look she turned around to see at the other end of a gun in the Louvre, the same look he'd had with a smug smirk when he'd caught her in an airlock. Usually, she had a clever remark ready that would knock the curiosity right out - yet her breath was tight up in her throat.

Then he's gone. Abruptly, the world seems to come back to life, and everything feels too bright and loud. The voices of nearby people hit her like a wave, her eyes blink into the shininess of her surroundings. She shivers.

Zip's voice is ringing in her ear. "..._Lara? Lara? You there? Dammit, there shouldn't be any issues with the tech-_"

"There's no problem." she says quickly, and forgets to lower her voice. Startled, she quickly begins away when some people look. She's long since finished the drink she had to hide behind.

"_You good?_" he asks, but doesn't wait for a response. "_We're running out of time. You gotta get moving._"

"Yes, I just need- there's something I need to check."

He snorts. "_Well ya better check quick._"

Lara excuses her way through the crowd, and bodies of chatty people prove to be greater obstacles than most she'd faced fighting and climbing her way through tombs. He was _here _seconds ago! The man she's been hunting, the one who is the solution to her problems. She doesn't consider the possibility that he cannot help - there's no time to consider alternatives. He has to help.

Finally, she breaks through the hordes of partygoers, and tries to look dignified despite how short her breath comes. Through the arched corridor out of the hall she goes - it's the only logical way he'd go - and into the next room. She passes by tall men in suits like the ones outside, who regard her cautiously. This one is dimly lit, the glow of soft candle light placed about the room; a much more romantic and relaxed atmosphere than the other spaces. Soft jazz reaches her ears from the other side of the room, by a pianist beside the bar. Casually, and attempting to keep her cool, she approaches the bar and lays her purse flat on the surface.

She glances over her shoulder at the rest of the room - there's not many people in here, and the bartender quietly keeps to himself for which she is grateful. She can't afford to be spending time doing nothing! Yet the purpose of these documents were to find him, and if she has found him without them...

"Excuse me, signorina?" a gruff voice comes from behind her. Both politely and curiously, she turns, and comes face to face with one of the men in the black suits and sunglasses. There's another beside him. Suddenly, she doesn't feel so curious anymore.

Her brow quirks. "Can I help you?"

It is unusual for Lara Croft to flinch, but when something she least expects happens, she gets an unfortunate reminder that she is not as immoveable as stone. She feels a hand on her back, skin against skin, and it causes her to jump.

"Yes, can my wife help you, gentlemen?"

She tries not to let her shock show. Playing along, she gives the two men in suits a demure smile, the very picture of innocent. They look at one another, unsure, then shake their heads, offer forced grins and back away. She watches they leave, from when they stand before her, all the way to when they've left the room and out the corridor she came.

For a moment, there's silence. Then, she turns to her helper with a cocked brow.

"Thank you for the help, dear _husband_."

Kurtis Trent gives her a nonchalant smile, and it almost immediately vanishes. He releases her, and turns to the bar, waving over the barman. At his calmness, she almost double-takes. Spinning to press her hands against the bar top, she tries to collect her thoughts. Part of her thinks she might need to pinch herself, there's no way her troubles could be over so easy.

"So, what's new with you?" he asks, after he'd ordered a drink. She'd said no to his offer to one for her - she couldn't be drinking more than a glass on the job.

She clears her throat, and decides not to point out the elephant in the room - namely, something that would draw a lot of attention if overheard. Instead, she plays with her purse, and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Not much," she lies. _I've spent the last few months hunting you like a woman possessed_. "I've heard this Monstrum business is still ongoing. I hope they catch whoever did it soon."

Recognition flashes through his eyes. He nods, takes a sip from his bottle. "There's a good chance they're after the wrong person," he comments. After a moment, he clicks his tongue, and brings a hand up to tug on his collar harshly. His neat bowtie comes undone in one sweep. "That's better. No idea how people breathe in these things."

Her voice lowers, and she leans closer. He, in response, tilts his head towards her. To anyone else, they'd look like a drunk couple flirting.

"Unlike you to dress up, stranger." Lara comments, her eyes roaming from his shiny dress shoes, all the way up to the collar of his black suit jacket. "What brings you here?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong," he doesn't look at her, but his hands around his bottle, "But I think we might actually be after the same thing, Ms. Croft."

A small smile plays at her lips. "Then we should work together."

One of his brows quirk inquisitively, and predictably, he asks, "We can divide the forces against us if we split up?"

"I'm surprised you remember that after all this time."

Now he looks at her confused, but does ask whatever question is on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he pushes back from the bar, and sets down his empty bottle of beer.

"Alright," Kurtis nods, and unbuttons his shirt a few - he looks much more relaxed, and she doesn't know whether it's because of the beer, or because he can now comfortably breathe. "You wouldn't be a doll and make this easy, would ya? Just buy the thing?"

She says nothing. Groaning, he closes his eyes. She isn't sure why he expected anything else after the Louvre - if she broke into there to steal, then nowhere is safe from her code of ethics. Giving him a smile, she reaches out, and grabs the lapel of his jacket, drawing him close. His breath touches the skin of her neck as she whispers in his ear.

"I can find my way to where we need to be. Get me a code."

Then, Lara draws back. If he wants this thing so desperately, then it's the least she can do to endear herself to him to help her clear her name. Speaking in court against a cult that worships demons as the true Monstrum would require some persuasion, after all.

Kurtis looks utterly unimpressed, half-lidded and tired. "Sure, give me the hard job."

"Oh, you're a big boy, you can handle it."

With that, she leaves him behind, content with the silent promise that she would see him again before the night was over.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artwork of Kurtis by the lovely adayka on tumblr! Thank you for letting me use it 😍  
(adayka.tumblr.com)

As Lara searches the extravagant party for the bathrooms, she's vaguely aware she's being followed. Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees flashes of black; the same men that approached her at the bar. She supposes leaving Kurtis takes away from his impromptu disguise for the two of them. Still, she has her methods and he has his - she would rather not shoot and ask questions later as he tends to. Finally, she peers up to spot a sign above her in an arched hallway that directs her exactly where she wants to go. She pushes against the heavy wooden door, and glances behind her as it closes - those men _are_ following her after all. They stand outside talking to each other in hushed tones.

Inside the bathroom, it's as glittery and glam as the halls outside; porcelain sinks before golden-framed mirrors with ornate taps, stalls behind decorated doors, painted with various heavenly imagery. There are three women stood at the sinks, talking to each other and giggling over the glasses they have in hands. One of them is leaning so far over the sink to see her reflection while she does her makeup that Lara is surprised she hasn't fallen yet.

"_Stall on the end,_" comes Zip's voice, and it sounds startlingly loud in such a quiet space away from crowds and music.

Wordlessly, she follows his instruction. She passes the women with a polite smile, but none of them return it. _How very polite,_ she thinks. The end stall is unoccupied - hurriedly, she enters, and shuts the door behind her; the stalls are floor to ceiling, so there is some semblance of stealth available here. Still, she works as quietly as she can. Taking off her heels, she sets them down gently on the ground so they make as little noise as possible. On her right leg - the one that is hidden under the skirts of her dress - she had thought ahead enough to strap a subtle knife. With it, she whispers an apology to Winston, and begins chopping away at her dress. She hems it up to above the knees, and creates a matching slit on the other leg that came from the design _before_ she made adjustments. Unpacking her purse, she's grateful Winston thought ahead; underneath her dual pistols is a leather belt which has been folded tightly to fit inside. She clicks it around her waist over her dress. It's not quite her usual holsters, but she'll take what she can get. Her pistols shimmy in between her and the belt.

Winston left one more gift. There's a handful of basic DIY tools on a ring buried at the very bottom of her purse. She tests the toilet cover with a foot, and it doesn't bend when she puts weight on it - using it as a step, she reaches up and undoes the screws of the vent cover. It takes a while, being so cautious, but eventually, Lara lifts it up off the wall, and lays it down atop the short wall behind the toilet, clicking the tools to her belt loop. Deftly, she hoists herself up into the cramped vent space. It's smaller than she would've liked - she has to crawl on her tummy - but if Zip is right, it'll have to do.

When she's crawled far enough from the bathrooms to think it safe to talk, Lara says, "I want you to monitor the cameras, Zip," she ducks her head under a loose section of metal. "If you see any sign of our friend Mister Trent, tell me immediately."

"_The guy at the bar? Got it._"

It feels like she's been crawling forever when she finally emerges into what appears to be a central vent space, taller and wider than the one from which she came. She coughs, and brushes off some of the thick layer of dust now clinging to her dress and skin. For a ventilation system, this place doesn't seem to do much ventilating. There's light from below, and she cautiously approaches the cover in the centre of the space - down there, there appears to be rows of chairs lined up before a form of stage, and the room is swarming with the men in black suits. The auction room, no doubt. She checks Winston's pocket watch: it's due to begin in five minutes.

"Where now, Zip?" she asks, glancing at the branching paths from here. There are three others from the one she came from, each pointing north, east, and west. At least the system is simple enough for her to get her bearings, especially when everything looks the same. Dark and dusty grey metal all around. It sets off her claustrophobia a little, but she tries to ignore it. Panic attacks in the middle of a mission would prove badly for everyone.

"_North would technically be fastest, but-_" he pauses, and there's some keyboard clicks. "_There's a vent gate blocking the path - would be noisy as all hell to take off. If you go east, you can go around it._"

She immediately follows up on his instructions - the east path is wider than the north one anyway.

"_Oh, and that guy you asked me to look out for?_" Zip adds, "_He just got past the guards in the east corridor. He's making his way towards the vault, and fast._"

"Of course he is." she grumbles, and speeds up her pace as much as she can while remaining light-footed. "What is he doing?"

Zip snorts. "_Right now? Single-handedly beating the ever-loving shit out of two dudes at once._" there's a _ooh_ of sympathy, then, _"What the fuck? Lara you better start moving faster or he'll beat you there._"

She hurries faster as he suggested, but says, calmly, "It's alright - he'll draw more attention than I will."

"_I get it! More baddies to take down, the more time he'll waste._"

Faintly, Raoul's voice is unimpressed. "_Figure that one out on your own, genius?_"

Lara sighs - he may be the most talented hacker she's ever met, but Zip doesn't seem to be making friends with any of her team. First Alister, now Raoul. She wonders just what it is about him that they don't seem to like.

With Zip's guidance, she makes her way through the labyrinth of vents above the party down below, far too calm and civil for her liking. At least in clubs there's plenty of darkness and loud music, the perfect cover. Here, it reminds her far too much of stuffy evenings with relatives she barely knows talking her ear off. Of course, these people had guns, but they didn't like her any more than her relatives, it seems. Once more, she checks Winston's pocket watch as she moves along as quietly and quickly as she can - the auction has started.

"Zip, what's going on on the auction front?" she asks.

"_First item is being bid on - seems like no one wants to go higher than this one guy's two point five mill- oh wait. Is the old woman in the corner gonna go for it? Go on, old hag, you know you wanna!_"

"I'm not sure I asked for a running commentary."

"_Sorry, just figured the more people bid, the more time ya got._" then, Zip whistles. "_Damn, the crazy old coot did it! Two point six... Oh I am so glad I don't have money to blow like this._"

"Zip! Focus, where now?"

There's a few clicks of a keyboard. "_Oh shit,_" he laughs nonchalantly. "_Drop down there and you'll be right in front of the vault. Watch out for baddies though, gonna be moving around down there I bet._"

"Alright," she sighs, and tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear. "Where's Kurtis?"

"_Way behind you, sister._"

That will buy her _some_ time. Knowing him, it won't be long that she has. Hurriedly, she unclips the tools from her belt loop, and begins unscrewing the vent cover at her feet. She grows sloppy, and, in her rushing, the vent cover swings down into the hallway, creaking as it does. For a moment, she stays silent, listening - had anyone heard? The corridor is silent. Letting out a breath she didn't realise she was holding, she peers down into the hall. Well-lit, with polished floors that reflect it back up into the ceiling. But no guards.

There's a large crate, some sort of moving box, beneath the vent. With a little stretching, she's able to lower herself down diagonally onto it, and her feet thank her for avoiding the straight drop. The noise her bare feet make against it when she lands is barely louder than a gentle creak. Cautiously, looking left and right up the hall, she creeps down from the top of the crate - there are more around her that provide some cover in case someone were to appear around a corner. Yet, surprisingly, no one shows.

"_Uh oh._" comes Zip's voice as she begins across the gap from the box to the short corridor before her. It immediately forces her to stop in reflex, but she hurries across when she realises how exposed she is.

"What?" she hisses, heart racing. There's nothing here, but it certainly helped to scare her.

"_I've lost access to the security cameras._" he says, a panic in his voice. "_I think they're onto me, Lara. I'll try to get back in, but they could track it back to me._"

Decisively, she shakes her head. "No, don't take the risk. I can survive without it for now."

Approaching the door at the end of the short hall, Lara eases it slowly open. It barely makes a sound. It leads to another small room at the end of which lies a heavy metal door, sealed and locked up tight. She's surprised at how unguarded the vault actually is, especially considering the auction, where the items are no doubt being held, is on-going. She smells a trap, but it's too good an opportunity to pass up right now.

There's footsteps behind her - and, if she hears right, some shuffling. Very swiftly she turns, hides herself behind the door that's still mostly ajar. As quietly as she can, she lifts a gun in its direction.

She is somewhat relieved to see the back of Kurtis' head. His hands are raised above his head in surrender.

"We've played this game before, I know you have a gun to the back of my head." he says, too calm for his words not to be ironic. To give him the satisfaction of being _right_, she steps forward, bare feet quiet against the floor, and pushes her gun to the side of his head with a soft thump.

"Now then," she says, and slowly circles him with her gun held at his chest. His lip is split, and the left side of his jaw looks a little swollen. His hair is wild, nowhere near the same neat pushed-back look he had earlier. He'd lost his tie somewhere, and his white collar was splattered with blood. "I trust you have the pass code I asked for?"

"I got you something better." Kurtis offers her a overly-sugary smile, and hauls in something behind him. An unconscious guard drags across the floor, his head lolling left and right as Kurtis pulls him to the vault door. Wordlessly, he slams the man's face against the door - some sort of reader scans his face. The first attempt fails, and so he does it again. This time, there's a flash of green light, and a click.

She gives him a smile as he tosses the limp body to the side. "Aren't you so sweet?" her fingers tap at his chin playfully as she strolls past him, into the now-open vault.

The room is cold. The floor is even icier than vents, and the cold radiates off the metal of the walls. Along the walls, there are shelves stacked with various items - just from a quick glance, Lara can tell some of them aren't even legitimate relics or antiques. She wonders how many fools will pay millions for a knock-off tonight.

Quickly, she begins looking. There are clearly multiple important documents in here, since there are boxes and boxes of papers and folders. She makes a bit of a mess, but she isn't about wasting time. Vaguely, she notices Kurtis is looking as well. Unlike her, he makes an _absolute_ mess, tipping boxes over on the shelves, sliding folders and papers around with little regard for keeping their cover afterwards. Then again, he is covered in blood; there's no cover to be had anymore.

"So," he says, his voice completely calm and steady despite the hurry. "Are we after the same thing again?"

Her eyes flick up from the table she's stood over briefly, to see him turning over a folder in his hands. She glares. "That depends. Will you steal it from me again?"

Kurtis seems to verify what he has in his hands are what he seeks. He waves it at her with a smug look in his eyes. "Depends-" he mocks, "-if this is what you're after."

He peels back the front cover, and even in the dim light, she can very clearly see the ink of the symbol of Lux Veritatis on the top of the old parchment.

"So you were after those," she nods, humming to herself. At this point, it didn't matter much if she got those documents from him or not - as long as he didn't disappear with them. She owes it to Alister to let him at least see them, too. Still, it wouldn't hurt to play a little... right?

"And so are you, from the looks of things." his head cocks to the side, and he glances down at them, staring at the crest of his ancient order. "Why, I wonder?"

"I have my reasons."

"I see. Keep your secrets then, Ms. Croft. I won't be stealing it from you." shrugging, he offers the folder towards her. Mildly surprised as well as confused, she reaches to take it. Abruptly, he draws it back - "Because I found them first."

And with that, he's gone from the vault so fast she barely sees him go. Cursing, she races after him, and wastes time trying to cover their tracks - with a heave, the vault door begins to swing shut after her. She leaves it to shut fully on its own. Trying to hide their tracks proves useless the second she steps out of the room. Lara barely ducks her head in time to dodge bullets flying at her. Diving, she takes cover behind one of the crates on the opposite, and their firing ceases for a moment. At the end of the hall, she sees Kurtis disappear around the corner.

Taking a breath, she leaps up onto the crate behind her, and scrambles into the vents. There's shouting in Italian down below, and she lets out an involuntary shout as a bullet comes through the metal beside her. She wastes no time - nor do the men shooting at her - and she sprints down the vent shaft as well as she can while avoiding their shots. She might have taken a risk coming up here, but there was no chance of her catching up to Kurtis. That had been attempted in the past, and every step of the way he'd taken every opportunity to both slow and mock her. _Not this time!_

"_Yes!_" comes an excited shout from her earpiece. Zip is hurriedly typing away at his laptop. "_I got access to the cams again - wait, where'd you go?_"

A bullet flies past and _clangs_ into the ceiling. The noise echoes through the entire shaft.

Breathily, she shouts, "Zip! Where is Kurtis and how do I get there?"

"_Uhhhh- he's in the big ballroom thingy where the party is. He's not doing a good job of blending in. Oh, he's turned. Go east, I think the guards saw him._"

There's noise below, and not the bullets. People, talking and music echoing through the halls. Now, there's a scream - have the guards followed her in here, with guns raised? Yes, they most certainly have, as bullets are shooting through the air again towards her. She barely dodges some that are shot at her, and then a few beams of light appear through bullet holes still a few paces ahead. Has their aim suddenly gotten terrible, or -

The vent groans when she puts her foot on it. It moves too fast - it gives way, cracks under her weight, dives at the ground below. There's horrible clanging noises as the supports of the vent further back give way from the ceiling, and the whole system collapses down onto the dance floor. There's a brief moment where her feet aren't touching the ground anymore; her back briefly grazes the top of the vent, and then it crashes into the ground.

Her head is spinning. She's winded - she can barely make out the noises of people screaming around her, and more creaking. The vents fell on a table, and after a moment, gives way and that is crushed as well. Disorientated, she crawls as best she can from the wreckage of the tube, but swiftly covers her head as she hears more bullets whizz past.

"_Give us a fuckin' break!_" she hears Zip shout, but it's faint. Is the earpiece damaged, or is she?

A hand grabs a hold of her arm. At first, she fights it, uncertain as her survival instincts kick in. But then, her head steadies a little more, she can think a bit clearer, and she sees Kurtis above her. He's hunched over, using the mess as a sort of cover as he drags her down next to him out of sight of the guns. She's dizzy, and can hear him saying things, to get up. After a moment, she forces herself up, and it's enough for him - he sprints away, and she barely has a chance to follow him before the shooting resumes.

There's a strange sense of déjà vu as Lara rushes after him, heart pounding in her chest. At least this time, unlike the Louvre, she's armed; she takes the opportunity to fire back. This corridor is lined with thick pillars on either side, and she takes cover behind one. Catching her breath, she arms herself with a pistol, and manages to get a few shots off. From what she can tell, all of them miss, but she excuses her sloppy aim from head trauma she no doubt has. Her head won't stop spinning!

A bullet whizzes past her, but not from the direction of the men in black suits. A few pillars back, Kurtis fires a few shots from his handgun, and there's a muted _thunk_ as one hits a target square in the shoulder. At least one of them are a good shot at the moment.

It takes her a moment, but she soon realises - he's covering her! While the men are distracted with him, she makes a break for it, crossing from side to side of the corridor to dodge the bullets flying in both directions. When she reaches the pillar on the opposite side to him, he takes cover, pressing his back flat to the wall. His hair is thoroughly disheveled, strands falling over his eyes; his collar buttons are undone down to his collarbone; and underneath his loose suit jacket she sees a holster strapped to his chest. She isn't sure how she didn't notice that earlier, but she isn't surprised he came prepared too.

Swiftly, she crosses the gap, and reaches the other side just in time for a bullet to miss her side. Kurtis hadn't expected her to move to him, and catches her waist when she stumbles a little. Yet, this is intentional - he's taken aback when she grabs the rolled up folder from where he's tucked it into his belt. Somehow, it feels more satisfying to be on the other end of the theft.

Without a second of delay, she smashes the window beside her with a shot from her gun. It shatters into bits, raining down on the both of them - Kurtis makes a move to protect himself from the shards, and it's this tiny opportunity that Lara uses to dive out the gap.

There's glass everywhere; she feels its sharp edges slice her arm as she passes what is left hanging onto the frame. She lands on a thin balcony, with a flimsy but ornate railing being the only thing holding her back from a very long fall. Quickly, she tucks the folder - already bent from Kurtis' rough treatment - into her own belt. Letting out a small hiss of pain as her bare foot presses down on a piece of glass, she takes another step with her other foot before stopping to pull the glass free. It's not long before she hears Kurtis joining her on the balcony, but when he does, she's already started scaling the wall beside her. Then, further down the balcony, there's shouting - the guards have figured out a way to open the windows near them.

Lara's foot slips on the brick, wet with blood - the scrape sends a shudder of pain through her, but her fingers keep a tight grip of the wall. There's a grunt as Kurtis begins to climb next to her, and fortunately for him there's trellis to climb. Still, she had a head start, and flips up onto the next balcony up in seconds - he follows close behind, and the railing creaks under his weight as he pulls himself up.

"Come on Lara, don't be stupid." Kurtis calls over the wind, which is howling so strong so high up. The streets below are so bright. "We keep playing this game of cat and mouse and we'll run out of places to go - what's the plan?"

"Who said we were playing?" she shouts back teasingly, though she feels unusually calm. It's strange - she doesn't feel threatened by him in the slightest. Perhaps it's their past alliance, or maybe because she knows he wouldn't shoot her for this scrap of paper. She hopes not, anyway.

Kurtis ducks his head quickly as a bullet shatters an ornate gargoyle sculpture hanging from the parapet above. She turns her back and begins to climb, higher and higher - she doesn't stop at the next balcony this time, and aims for the next, or even the next. It's not far to the roof, now.

"Zip! Are you there?" Lara yells over the wind - she can barely hear her own voice.

"_I read you Lara - where the hell'd you go? I can't see you in any of the cameras._"

With a grunt of exertion, she pulls herself up, and takes a risky jump back to cling to the parapet separating her from the roof.

"Tell Raoul to bring the helicopter in! I'm not getting out of here on my own!"

As she begins to haul herself up onto the roof, she hears the faint sounds of guns firing. The guards are still way below, though more on higher floors have come out onto the balconies. She doesn't know how many there are. She's almost clear and out of their reach when the bullets get too close for comfort - one hits, scrapes along her calf and buries itself into the wall below. With a cry of surprised pain, her grip loosens, and she panics - she scrambles to grab the edge, barely holding on with her forearms, slipping. She thinks she'll fall; the parapet overhangs the balcony, she won't even land back there if she does. The only place she'll end up is a decorative splat on the ground far, far below.

Despite the wind, a warm feeling envelopes her - like a strange, humming blanket. Suddenly, she feels herself thrust up over the parapet, where she lands on the roof with a tumble. As soon as she's over the edge, the feeling leaves her, and the wind tears at her skin again. She shouldn't, not with the bullets flying, but she briefly glances over the edge - Kurtis stands on the balcony below, lowering his hand from where it had been outstretched. He'd done that only once before, yet she would never forget the strangeness of the sensation being thrown around. Both times he'd saved her.

Without much more thought, she whips out a pistol, and starts firing at the guards below. She sees one fall, and he stumbles back over the railing - it bends under his weight and he disappears into the city below. _Poor sod_, she thinks; he probably would've survived that shot.

Kurtis moves fast; he begins climbing, using his arms to swing himself up from each ledge, barely using his feet to catch a spot. She supposes with all those muscles and the broadness of his chest, he had to get some use out of his upper body strength. When he reaches the parapet, he grabs up with a hand, and manages to catch a hold of the edge. More bullets fly their way, and he hurries to heave himself up over the edge as Lara fires some back.

As they back up away from the edge, the wind grows stronger, throwing her hair in her face and her tattered dress up into the air. She's glad she had the idea to wear shorts underneath, but that's the least of her problems. Above, Raoul's helicopter descends at a pace that seems too slow, for more armed guards break through the door at the other end of the roof. He got here fast, there's that much at least.

She and Kurtis dive behind a nearby vent, which spins and throws out darkened smoke into the air. Shots start firing, both at the helicopter as well as them, and there's barely any opportunity to take a shot back.

"We're sitting ducks out here!" Kurtis clicks another set of rounds into his handgun, and takes a shot over the vent.

"Hurry it up, Raoul!" Lara barks down her earpiece, and Zip is quick to tell her in a hysterically high voice that they're trying.

He squeals, "_We're being shot at, give us a break!_"

"Tell me about it!" she snaps, flinching as another bullet clangs against their meagre cover.

Finally, the chopper touches down, its blades still spinning at a high speed. Lara struggles to catch her breath, her heart pounding - situations like these are both terrifying and exhilarating. At the moment, more terrifying than anything else.

"Go, I'll cover you!" she can barely hear Kurtis over the powerful wind, but the second he speaks, she nods, and begins to move.

Bullets fly back and forth, though there are a considerable amount more coming from the other side of the helicopter. There's a short stretch between her and the helicopter, of which there is absolutely nothing to hide behind. Taking a breath, she sprints her fastest across the gap, and she can't count how many bullets come too close. With a dive, she leaps into the open door of the helicopter where Zip waits, holding it open. He's flinching and squealing with every bang of a bullet against the side of the heavily armoured vehicle.

"Kurtis!" she yells over the noise, and she barely sees him over the vent. "Move it!"

He plays it a bit safer - he ducks out of cover, and runs sideways until he stands behind the helicopter. Only his legs can be shot, with the body of the vehicle hiding most of him from fire. He races towards them, and almost makes it without a scratch - last minute, a lucky shot gets through, and Lara flinches for him as Kurtis almost doubles over. The bullet got his knee, and he can do nothing but slowly hobble the rest of the way.

Ignoring Zip's protests, she dives back out of the helicopter and races to Kurtis. Grabbing his arm over her shoulders, she drags him at a more hurried pace, and in record speed they reach the helicopter. Zip opens the door further to let both of them stumble in at once, and as soon as they're in, the ground beneath gets further away.

Ungracefully, Zip struggles to slide the door closed behind them. He wobbles, and lets out an unflattering squeal as the building below gives way to the streets far, far away, and slams the door shut with a bang.

Lara and Kurtis huff to catch breath. She threw herself into a chair as soon as she'd gotten in, but Kurtis hadn't even made it that far - he'd collapsed to the ground, rolled over on his back, his chest heaving up and down with each breath.

"This certainly isn't how I expected this evening to go." Lara breathes, and lets out a small, slightly unhinged laugh.

"Shit, Lara, your leg!" Zip uncomfortably stares at her wound; her entire calf is wrapped up in a sticky, messy pattern of blood.

"I forgot about that." she murmurs, admittedly. She glances over at Kurtis, whose eyes are closed, his chest relatively still. "Kurtis?"

"I'm not dead, Princess, don't worry." comes the sarcastic remark, his lips barely moving.

"You will be if you don't stop that bleeding," she says dismissively. "Zip, pass me that first aid kit, please."

As the technician goes to collect the kit strapped to the wall of the helicopter, Kurtis sits up, and slowly shuffles back, and lifts himself up onto the seats opposite her with his arms. He rolls up the leg of his trousers, and he is in a worse condition than her; there's just as much blood, but there's a bullet in his leg.

"Oh that's nasty," Zip gags as he hands Lara the kit, and disappears back to the front where he can't see the wounds.

Kurtis groans when he sees the wound in his leg, but in annoyance. "I really don't want to get a bullet out right now." he sighs, turning his head back up against the wall.

"You've survived worse." she comments, as she unwinds some bandages to wrap around her own.

He sighs. "I guess."

After she's finished binding the bandages around her leg, she triumphantly withdraws the folder from her holster. It's curled up and the papers inside are crumpled, but she has it.

"Speaking of which," she begins, and gives him a smile. "I think you owe me a little explanation, Mr. Trent."


	4. Chapter 4

It's quiet in the helicopter. Lara sits silently reading through some pages of the manuscript that came from the folder, gently touching frail old sheets of paper, and straightening crinkled print-outs that Kurtis had abused. It proved a good enough read thus far, but none of it seemed helpful. There's probably something she's missing.

Opposite her, Kurtis is lying on his back across the seats. His elbow is thrown over his eyes, other arm resting on his chest, moving up and down faintly with each breath. His leg is bandaged from the ankle up to the knee, and soaked through with blood; he tore off his trouser leg when he started seeing to it and its tattered remains lay on the floor. He'd managed to get the bullet out, and put on a brave face when he put in a few stitches. Lara felt cruel asking too many questions then, when he looked so tired and hurt. Now, he's sound asleep.

Quietly, Lara puts aside her papers. Rising, she crosses the gap between where she had sat, and where he lays. There's a relative peace to him when he sleeps - unlike anything she'd seen in him before. He doesn't move - in fact, he's not moving at all. Concerned, she reaches out, slowly still. Her hand aims for his heart; he's clearly survived worse if that pool of blood he left behind was anything to go by, but she isn't having him bleed to death on  _ her _ watch. There's a flash of movement, and a hand closes around her wrist. Slowly, he draws his other arm back from his face, and his half-lidded eyes blink tiredly at her in the light.

"I'm not dead," he murmurs, voice thick with sleep - deep and gravelly, "But I think I need a rest."

After a moment, Kurtis releases her. His grip had been warm, despite how sickly he looks. She imagined him to be cold to the touch. Ducking her head in defeat, she retreats, and takes a seat opposite him.

"Then why weren't you sleeping?" she asks, playfully.

He gives her a cheeky smile. "This pilot can't keep his chopper steady."

Her brow quirks. "You think you could do better, Mister Trent?"

"Not right now, no," he groans as he stretches his leg out and in again. "If I wasn't still bleeding, sure. Believe it or not I'm licensed to fly things like this," he gestures to the roof, very non-descript.

_ Interesting _ , she thinks. An aircraft pilot's licence - what else doesn't she know about her mysterious one-time partner? He'd intrigued her so much when they met, and yet there was never enough time to simply talk. Too much to do, too little time, too few people. The more she thinks on it, the more she realises what a miracle it is that both of them survived the ordeal with the Cabal. They had been so outnumbered, and yet  _ somehow _ they made it. Perhaps that had been in the puppet master's plan - Karel, the real monster behind the man Eckhart, had barely revealed himself in truth at the end. She tries not to think about it.

"Kurtis," she begins, a little concerned about the dark circles under his eyes, "When was the last time you slept?"

His hand moves to scratch the back of his head. "I don't know, a few days?" he offers, and shrugs. "It's hard to sleep with one eye open."

Cocking her head, she looks at him with a quizzical look. "You're in some trouble?"

He lets his eyes close, and for a short moment, his tense expression relaxes, and he looks almost at peace. Then, he huffs, a few strands of his loose fringe floating up with it.

"Some - I'm not sure. Nothing I can't handle, Ms. Croft."

Their relative peace was disrupted. Zip stumbles in from the cockpit, hand on his headphones as he pulls them down, laptop sliding under an arm. Helpfully, Lara catches it before it hits the floor, looking utterly unimpressed at him. Sure, Raoul wasn't always able to keep the helicopter steady, but he was tripping over his own feet here. No, in fact -

"Zip, you may want to tie your shoelaces." Lara suggests, bemused. His high-tops were fully unlaced to just above his ankle, and the excess string was tripping him up.

He nods, and throws himself into the chair beside her. His foot goes up onto the seat while he messily ties them together in a knot he will most likely struggle to get out of later.

Across from her, Kurtis' brow quirks. "Who's this clown?" he asks, nodding in Zip's direction.

Angrily, Zip puffs out his chest - looking less threatening, and more like exactly what Kurtis called him as he does. "Hey man, this  _ clown _ just saved your ass!"

Kurtis wiggles some fingers mockingly. "Doors are no problem for me, you saved me, my ass."

Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Zip's laces are completely undone now, all the way down to the first pair of eyes. She bites her tongue to keep in her laughter - surely pranks are not what Lux Veritatis powers are  _ supposed _ to be used for.

"What the shit..." the technician's shoulders slump when he notices the unravelled laces in his hands, and then throws his arms up in the air. "You know what? I'll trip, I don't care."

Rolling her eyes, Lara extends a hand between the two of them, one by one. "Kurtis, this is Zip, a very talented young man with a knack for technology. Zip, Kurtis Trent, the man we've been looking for."

Before Zip can say anything, Kurtis' brows draw tight together. "You were looking for me?"

A little uncomfortable in admitting it, Lara nods. She takes it upon herself to gently slot the papers back inside its folder, stashing the document with the crest of the Lux Veritatis in amidst the print-outs. "Yes." she says, and glances at him - he's still looking at her with those bright blue eyes. "For the last six months."

If he could look anymore confused, he does. His mouth opens and closes a few times, aghast.

"What do you mean six months?" he grows increasingly tense, and rubs his forehead. "What six months? When? You didn't even know me six months ago."

Lara exchanges a look with Zip. He looks back at her, and offers her an over-dramatic shrug of confusion, humming a, "I dunno," as he does.

Strangely, the question seems to make sense leaving her despite how oddly it sounds. "Kurtis," she begins, gently, "What day do you think it is?"

**-**

The rest of the ride is silent. She still can't wrap her head around it even as Raoul pulls the helicopter into the lands of her estate after a ride that feels like an eternity. To her, the last six months had been a living hell - running, hiding. Lara had survived being buried alive, for goodness sake, and it had still been tough getting through this.

Kurtis, on the other hand, had lived an entire two weeks in that time. Only  _ two weeks _ . She had pressed him, question after question. "I remember nothing, Lara," he'd told her. He'd woken up in a dingy tunnel inside the Strahov Fortress and stumbled his way back out into the world. For a while, he'd also mentioned, his memories of what had happened before then had been hazy - he hurt and didn't know why, felt like things were missing.

"My powers were gone," he had murmured, looking down at his palm while his fingers flexed. "I have them back somewhat now, but I can't use them for long, or for much. That's why I need those documents you have - they can tell me how to get them back."

When the helicopter finally lands, she feels confused. There is a part of her that is riddled with jealousy - all this time spent, tortured over a crime she didn't commit, and here he was, sleeping the months away. Zip eagerly jumps down onto the gravel path, slinging a backpack over his shoulder - he's riding the mission high, clearly forgetting how he'd reacted to the sound of bullets and sight of blood. There's footsteps approaching, and Lara looks up to see a smiling Winston hobbling towards them. Alister is with him, and to her silent gratitude, he seemed to be offering him an arm to lean on often.

In the evening gloom, the lights surrounding the temporary helipad barely show up the path to the manor. The house itself is lit with spotlights turned upward to the sky. There's a strange feeling she gets when she looks at her home now - despite having found Kurtis, she doesn't feel any less lost. She had hoped she wouldn't feel this way, that there would be some relief in knowing he was with her, and yet... She shakes it off, and offers Winston a smile as he approaches.

"-you shoulda seen me, man!" Zip is loudly exclaiming behind the old butler, waving his hands wildly at an unimpressed Alister - who leans away from his boisterous voice. "I was crazy, dodging bullets this way and that. Without me, they would never have gotten outta there!"

" _ They _ ?" Alister quotes, and his eyes go wide behind his glasses. Pushing past Zip, he hurries to the helicopter door. "Lara, does that mean-"

Exhausted, Lara makes basic introductions. "Alister, Kurtis Trent. Kurtis, Alister Fletcher."

"O-Oh my! A real, breathing Lux Veritatis! It's such an honour to meet you!"

Zip snorts. "Yeah, this one breathes - paper  _ still _ doesn't."

Kurtis, eyes tired and limbs heavy, doesn't look impressed as he shuffles to the door. "You shouldn't be excited or happy to meet someone like me." he mutters, and clambers down from the helicopter. Before him, a few inches shorter, Alister retreats a little. "People around me tend to die, buddy."

Alister visibly gulps. After a moment that feels to long, with a deafening silence and a terrifying glare from Kurtis, Lara drops down to the ground - ignoring the small pieces of gravel sticking in her bare feet - and pushes them apart, a hand on Kurtis' shoulder.

"We're all very tired, Alister." she says, and makes a conscious effort to turn to him; it makes a barrier between the two men. "Gush about him in the morning, when you've found something on this."

The moment she offers him the folder of documents, his eyes sparkle. Eagerly, he takes it from her, holding it in his hands like it was the first edition of the Holy Bible. He has the sense not to open it now, where there is some wind.

"Winston, we have coffee left, don't we? I shall begin working at once!" Alister proclaims, and charges off down the path back to the house. Distantly, she hears him muttering, "I  _ knew _ it! I knew they were real! Those Oxford bastards will faint when they hear this!" to himself.

Offering a hand to Kurtis, Lara turns to Winston. He ignores her offer, and instead stubbornly leans heavily on his uninjured leg.

"Welcome home, Lady Croft," Winston bows his head, and gives her a smile. How polite he'd been, waiting patiently for the others to have their piece. "You're not too harmed, I hope?"

"I'm alright," she says, giving him her most reassuring smile. No need to worry him further. "Would you mind showing Kurtis to a guest room, please? He'll be in need of some medical supplies as well, I should think."

Kurtis huffs, "Just let me sleep, then I'll be as good as new."

"As you wish, Lady Croft." he hobbles back up the path a little, and beckons to Kurtis with a gentle hand. "This way, sir."

He eyes her strangely a little, as if he hadn't expected her money and fame to be real enough to have a butler in her employ. She rolls her eyes - the huge inherited home, a helicopter, funding for dozens of explorations, what else did he expect? Regardless, he follows Winston up to the house, and she smiles when she sees a bit of boyish curiosity in him, looking around at her home.

**-**

Once she has convinced Winston to stop fussing over her wounds, Lara takes the brief moment of peace to take a bath. How she loves baths; sinking deep beneath the bubbles, feeling her muscles relax in the hot water. After coming home from a trip, washing away the grime, sweat and blood in luxury is absolutely bliss.

A hand draped over the side of the tub, Lara has herself lost in a book. Some would argue it to be fiction, yet legends and myths of strange, warring orders from millennia ago fascinate her to no end. Shaking her free hand dry, she carefully turns the page, relishing in the crinkle of old paper - such a delightful sound. Sighing contentedly, she begins to hum along to the soft, classical music playing from a speaker in the corner of the room. As much as she loves dungeon diving and gunfights - and many other situations others would consider crazy - moments like this are truly enjoyable to one Miss Lara Croft.

At first, she thinks it's her imagination. But then, she hears it again - distantly, the shattering of glass. She doesn't move too fast as to cause the water to make noise, but gets out of her bath, wraps herself up in a gown, and slowly lowers the volume of her music. She waits, listens; perhaps it had just been Winston's age catching up to him, or Zip not paying attention again. The noise doesn't come again. But then - Winston is usually in bed by now, and Zip's area is usually locked tight with him in it at night. Her heart starts racing at the possibility of it being anything but what she hopes it can be.

Then -  _ crash _ ! Ear-splittingly loud, the glass to her balcony caves inwards, and the shards fly across her room. The terrible wind from outside howls in a freezing breeze, which hits her wet skin like ice. Holding her breath, Lara pushes her back to a wall, heart pounding - the nearest weapon is under her pillow, the tactical knife which barely ever leaves its spot. She took to sleeping with one years ago, despite how much Winston has tried to tell her it's dangerous. There are heavy, thumping footsteps across the carpet, crunching glass under heel. Maybe two people? Three?

Very cautiously, Lara peeks around the wall. She spots three men, surveying her room with their guns, creeping slowly and carefully. Not careful enough, Lara thinks, not around her. One of them, presumably drawn by the faint music of her speaker, creeps towards the bathroom archway, and the nose of his gun enters the room first. After a second or two, so does his body - and then she strikes.

Yanking the barrel of his gun, she hauls the attacker to her, at the same time at which she raises her knee - it hits him in the gut and he groans, doubling over. She takes the opportunity, grabs his head, and introduces that part of him to her knee as well. He rolls over onto the floor, out cold. The noise draws the other two, but she is armed with his rifle then, and guns one down before they even make it to the bathroom; he collapses into her, and she grabs a right hold of the straps of his pack, forces him up off her just as his partner fires at her - and hits his back. Coldly she shoves him aside, and fires more rounds at the last one standing. He isn't, for much longer.

There's no time to catch her breath. Quickly, she searches the bodies of her attackers, but can't find anything indicative of who they are. Instead, she arms herself with the equipment they bring; conveniently, their handguns fit one in each of her gown's pockets. Her mind races - who could they be working for? She has plenty of enemies, but none so brazen as to track down her home and attack. Then again, earlier this evening she had broken into the home of an Italian Mafia family. Would they be willing to target her where it hurts?

Out of her room she races, and comes to an abrupt halt when she crashes into the railing overlooking the entryway. The front windows to the house are too smashed, and in the centre of it, Raoul is grappling with two men - in the same black tactical attire as the ones who attacked her. There's a bang from below, and Zip's bullet hits one of them in the back. Honestly, she's surprised Zip can handle a gun, or is even able to hold it straight enough to shoot. When she looks closer, she notices his hands are shaking like a leaf.

The whole scene is a complete mess, and she feels rage boil up inside her. This was her  _ home _ . How dare they? The beautiful stained glass windows lay in irreplaceable pieces on the torn, dirtied carpet; there are bullet holes in the panelled oak walls; the front door was thrown open, the smaller door inside it crushed to the ground. After a moment of surveying the damage in a furious silence, Lara's heart jumps out of her chest - at the end of the hall overlooking the entryway, there's an old man crumpled against the wall.

"Winston!" she cries in terror.  _ No! _ she pleads, as she rushes to him,  _ Not him, please be alright! _

She crouches before him, and her shaky hands reach out for him. Before she even touches him, relief washes over her when he moves, his head turning up to look at her with as much concern as she stares at him with. He doesn't appear visibly hurt, but any internal damage could spell disaster for a man of his age.

He grabs tight hold of her forearms, and he seems relieved to see her. "Lara, thank goodness you're alright," he breathes, and his voice quivers and cracks.

"Are you hurt?" she asks, and it makes her uncomfortable with how shaky her own voice is. She's so relieved she can barely control herself.

The old butler shakes his head, and gives her a warm smile. "Just took a tumble. Mister Trent came running when he heard the noise, he fought off those nasty men."

She'd have to thank Kurtis later - if he hadn't have been here... she shudders at the thought. "Where did he go?"

"I-I'm not too sure, Miss. He ran off after checking I was alright."

She gets up to leave, but stops to help him up. Thinking ahead, she hands him one of the pistols from inside her gown pockets. "Do not hesitate to use it if you have to."

His wrinkled hands shake when he holds it, but he nods. "I haven't forgotten how to use a gun."

Hurriedly, she races down the stairs, and arrives in time to put a bullet in the lucky man that was able to physically wrestle Raoul to the ground - not many can, a man his strength and size. With a disgusted expression, Raoul rolls the corpse off from on top of himself, and clambers to his feet. His shirt is torn in places, and he has blood running from his nose. She's grateful to him; she hadn't asked much of him aside from a favour tonight, and yet here he is, fighting in her defence. From behind her, Zip stumbles forward, mumbling about how dizzy he feels - he's dressed in a huge hoodie and loose sweatpants. He'd been either sleeping at his computer or trying to make his way to bed.

"Has anyone seen Kurtis?" Lara asks, as she pulls a new cartridge of ammo from the corpse. "Or Alister for that matter?"

It's Raoul that responds. "Alister was in the study when the power went down, guy was high off caffeine. First thing that made us realise what was happening was the library going into lockdown."

She nods, and reloads her gun as she heads across the entrance hall. There's almost silence as she approaches the scanner, and awaits for the door to the library to open. It's unlikely anyone could have gotten past this - especially if even Alister couldn't get out. Still, she can't help but feel nervous; the library has access to the trophy room. There are too many dangerous relics locked up here, and if any of them were to get loose...

She shrugs off the thought, and heads in. Raoul stays put with Zip and Winston - they need someone protecting the house, especially if Kurtis and Alister are god-knows-where. After she gets through the initial locked door, it slams shut behind her, and she's plunged into dark. This room is where Allister spends his time - Zip too, though he clearly hadn't been here when Allister triggered the lockdown. When he had, the doors to both the library and trophy room shut tight, as well as shutters going down over the windows. It was part of Zip's clever redesign. She would be incredibly impressed if goons had found their way inside here.

Her eyes adjust to the dimness after a second or two; her limited vision, mixed with her memory, gives her a vague image of where she should go to avoid bumping into things. Emergency power doesn't affect the lock down area, that was intentional. If there's a lock down there's a good reason, and blinding thieves never fails. It's quiet, very quiet in this room. Perhaps everything is fine here; but the attackers are far too well equipped and organised for this to be a simple robbery. They're after something.  _ But what? _ she wonders. In a place like this, a robber would have a field day - so many priceless relics, dangerous mythical items that should never have been found by the hands of men. There's too many possible things it could be. 

Unless, of course, her original theory was correct - if these men worked for the Mafia of Milan, that meant they could only be after one thing. The documents! 

Lara rushes through the library, blindly runs at where vague memory serves to pinpoint Alister'a desk. She stumbles into it, but swiftly adjusts, scouring the table for any sign of the rough surface of the folder, or the crinkle of crispy parchment. For a while, she searches in the dark, hurried, but doesn't find anything from touch for what she's looking for. 

Huffing in frustration, she glances around the room, and risks it. "Alister ?" she calls, cautiously. Her gun is still raised. "Alister, are you in here?" 

A small voice comes from the other side of the room, muffled. "Lara? Is that you? Thank goodness, I've been having a panic attack in here!"

She approaches his voice, and reaches out a hand. Smooth wood, a closet door. "Alister, what's going on?"

The door creaks open. Meekly, Alister's voice reaches her ears. 

"I heard a struggle outside so I started the lockdown, just like you said." he sounds incredibly nervous, "I have the documents with me, I would've tried to hide more but I couldn't see anything." 

"That's alright, I doubt they could get in here. Keep ahold of them, though." 

"Who  _ are _ they, Lara? Do you think they want the documents?" 

"Maybe - they're too well organised to be anything but a force sent by someone who hates my guts. We'll keep the lockdown in place until-" she trails off. 

"Until when?" Alister presses, but she shushes him. Faintly, she hears a noise - which she shouldn't, considering the soundproofing due to Zip's noise. Still, it comes up again, louder this time. Abruptly, she blindly reaches out in the dark, grabs Alister's shoulder - or collar, she isn't sure - and pushes him back inside the cabinet. When he tries to complain, she hisses a, "Shh!" at him again, and twists the cabinet lock from the outside. 

"Do not make a  _ sound _ !" she warns, and approaches the strange noise.

It's a strange fizzing noise, with pops and snaps. Rounding a table she noiselessly bumped into, her eyes go wide. Where her memory tells her there is a window - covered with a shutter - there's flashing light, burning a sizzling circle into the metal. Alarmed, she drops to take cover behind the table. They are  _ far _ too organised! 

Panicking, she tries to think fast, to decide what to do. There's not much she actually can do at this point. So instead, she waits, hating every second she has to listen to more invaders tear their way into her home, to steal the things she has worked so hard to gather away from the hands of evil men. Finally, after what feels like forever, the noise stops, and there's a terribly loud crash as the thick metal sheet of the shutter falls to the ground. After a moment, footsteps follow it, each one a clang against the metal, before turning to thumps against the carpet. She counts - one, two, three, four… eight pairs of feet enter the room. Quite honestly, she's shocked no one had found her yet, with how close their footsteps sound. 

How close… in a brief moment of decision, she kicks out, and the man she knew was next to her trips over her leg. His steel-toe boots will bruise in the morning, she's sure. Still, she takes the opportunity and sees his faint outline in the light coming through the hole, and dives up to drag him down to the floor beside her. As soon as she does, bullets begin to fly, pinning her down. The man with her has his head quickly smashed against the table leg, and he collapses to the ground. She prays none of the bullets buried in the wall got anywhere near Alister's cabinet. 

“She’s here! Get her!” comes a muffled shout from behind a mask.

Apologising silently to Alister, she flips the table behind her over with her shoulders, and the papers and books placed in organised piles atop it go flying. She hears some of the men scramble back, and shoots up with guns blazing. One falls almost immediately, but her aim is off for any others - in the meager light can see faint shadows in the bluish glow. Hastily, she darts to the left, and ducks behind the staircase. This way, bullets shot at her don’t come close to Alister. They don’t know he’s hiding, and she wants it to stay that way. 

Men come at her from both sides of the spiral staircase. She dives, furious, onto one, her elbow connecting with his jaw - it doesn’t do much other than hurt her, as he seems to be wearing a mask of sorts. Lara ducks in time to feel the wind from his swipe, and he instead punches his partner who goes sprawling back into a bookshelf. Heart racing, she spins around the other one who still stands, just in time for the bookshelf to groan, wobble, and collapse into the staircase - heavy hardbacks rain down from the upper shelves, distracting the mercenary enough for her to smack him hard with a decorative vase that adorned the banister end. It smashes on contact, and he slumps to the floor in its pieces. 

As she turns, there’s an immediate backlash - a mercenary crept up on her from behind, and his fist connects with her face so hard her vision spins. She stumbles into the staircase, hands flailing for the banister rails. Catching herself low to the ground, she squeezes her eyes shut for a brief moment.  _ This is nothing, _ she tells herself,  _ Get… up! _

She jumps, pushing away from the banister to ram her shoulder into the gut of the mercenary before her. There’s shooting pains up her entire arm as she does, feeling the tough armour vest covering his body. They stumble, at least a little, and she scrambles to put some distance between them - by pushing him, she’s carved a way back from behind the staircase. Scrambling, head spinning, she rushes for the stairs themselves. She makes it up a few then stumbles, and a hand catches her ankle. 

Like a wild animal, she kicks, struggles against his grip. She lets out a cry of pain as he drags her down a few stairs, her ribs hiding each one violently hard. By the time he’s dragged her back to the ground, she’s winded. Yet, she still struggles; she shoves her hand into the pocket of her gown, and retrieves the other pistol she kept for herself. There’s a bang, and the man holding her slumps lifeless to the ground. 

To her feet she clambers, and spins to face the room. Her guns are loaded and raised, and yet she finds no targets to shoot. Confused and breathless, she stumbles forward a little, glances around the messy room lit with moonlight. There are bodies everywhere. Her shoulders slump, and she lets herself catch some breath. But there had been eight men, hadn’t there? Or had she counted wrong?

A pain shoots through her skull. It’s sudden, quick, and comes as a complete surprise - though it shouldn’t, when she realises how careless she’s been. Her legs give out, and the world turns black.


	5. Chapter 5

“Lara? Lara, wake up, come on!”

Everything hurts. Groaning, she forces her eyes open. The sky is bright - someone turned the power back on. There’s a shadow hanging over her, an arm supporting her back. His face is hazy, and in the dizziness she thinks it’s Kurtis. When her vision clears, she blinks, and recognises Raoul. Strangely, that makes her feel a little disappointed. 

“What… happened?” she asks, drowsy. Her head is spinning, she feels sick.

Raoul helps her sit up, and keeps a hovering hand supporting her back. “I went outside and saw they’d gotten in through the window - Zip lowered the lockdown and I found you here like this.”

Vaguely, she gestures to the other side of the room, where she’d locked Alister in a cabinet. 

“Alister… he- is he alright?”

“It’s good, we got him out. He’s with Winston and Zip right now, in the kitchen.”

Slowly, she staggers to her feet. She feels humiliated - bested in defence of her own home, by unknown men. The room is an utter mess. The walls are lined with bullets, the table in the middle of the room upturned and papers, books, various rolled up sheets and ancient texts covering the floor like a makeshift rug. Some of them drift around in the wind coming through the window. The bodies are gone, but there is still some blood - splattered up the wall behind the staircase, dripped onto the floor. 

Lara goes up the stairs, each step getting easier than the last. When she reaches the top, her heart sinks. Kurtis is hovering by the window, sat on a window seat. His hands are clasped together, and he rises when he sees her enter. There’s so much he wants to say, but doesn’t know how.

The trophy room is a mess. Display cases have been shattered, the glass covering every square inch of the floor. The items kept within are gone - there’s not a single case left untouched. Even the more protected ones built into the walls, with multiple security measures and thicker glass, have been cracked open as easy as thin ice. 

“It’s all… Everything’s gone.” she murmurs. Raoul follows behind her, and she quietly steps through the room, unconsciously trying to avoid standing on glass. A shaky hand settles on the rim of an empty case; her finger knicks on it, and a drop of blood stains the cushion. Her voice is harder now, and it doesn’t quiver; “Everything. They took  _ everything _ .”

“Who the hell were those guys?” Raoul asks, rubbing the back of his neck. “Why would they want all of this?”

Coldly, Lara snaps, “It can sell for good money. In the wrong hands, they’ll cause untold damage.”

Kurtis walks through between the display cases, almost-silently if not for the crunching of glass underfoot. Strangely, he walks perfectly. Didn’t he have a limp last night?

Seeing him reminds her of something. Hopping awkwardly between patches of relatively clear ground, she approaches a wall cabinet, with as much speed as she can muster. Usually, to open the drawer she is going for, she needs to enter a code as well as scan her fingerprints. Now, it comes open with a measly tug. 

“It’s gone.” she breathes in disappointment. Kurtis approaches and glances over her shoulder at the empty space under her hands. “They took it, Kurtis. Your weapon.”

Immediately, he turns away, and she sees his hands clench. “Shit.” he spits, and once more surveys the mess of the trophy room.

The only thing that remains hangs over them all, staring at them silently in a constant open-mouthed terror. They hadn’t bothered to steal the skeletal remains of the T-Rex above the mantel.

**-**

A few hours later, morning sunlight comes through the windows of the kitchen. Kurtis takes the cup of coffee offered to him by a sleepy-looking Zip, and takes a sip. He’s sat at the breakfast table with Raoul; they’ve stopped for a break from cleaning. For the last few hours, he’s held a broom more than he has in his entire life, and picked up more glass shards than he thought was possible to be in a single house. 

Lara, silent and pensive, stands by the back door. After she’d gotten dressed, she’d come down to help them for a time, and then spent some time with Winston. After his fall, she’d sent him to bed and told him not to leave, for he was not up for cleaning anything. 

Kurtis thinks she’s been frowning for too long. He’s as furious as she is, if not more - they stole from him the one thing his father had left behind, the sole object that he’d entrusted to Lara to bring them back together one day. And like that, it’s gone. Yet, she’s been very quiet since he and Raoul found her in the early hours of the morning, and admittedly, it’s worrying. What he wouldn’t give for some insight into that head of hers. 

Then, abruptly, she pushes up from the counter she leans on, and says, “Kurtis, come with me. Let’s go see if Alister has found anything.” and leaves the room.

He stays where he is for a minute, and blinks slowly. She’s been back in his life for a few hours and he’s already being ordered about. Yet, he’d rather be around her than her two teammates, Zip and Raoul, so he gets up, swigs the last of his coffee and follows her. There’s never enough time to sleep - and most nights he doesn’t get attacked.

Lara’s already disappeared into the library, and when he arrives she’s stood before Alister’s righted desk, arms crossed. Her fuse is short, and Alister doesn’t seem to know what to say to make her feel any better. Nor, it seems, does he have any news to share. The documents from the folder are splayed out across his desk, and he has his laptop nearby as well as multiple texts and references. 

Yet - “I’m sorry, Lara,” Alister says, clutching his hands together. “I’ve read through it all twice now, trying to understand it, but it’s utter nonsense.”

“It seems like a riddle, Alister,” Lara says bluntly, taking a sheet from the table and glaring at it so hard Kurtis thought it might burst into flames. “Surely there’s something you can cross reference to understand it?”

“Yes, if I knew the context. There doesn’t seem to be any purpose to it.”

Kurtis steps forward, and takes the sheet from Lara’s hands. She doesn’t fight him, but looks unimpressed at his intervention; he examines it for a few moments and agrees with the guy - it is complete and utter nonsense. But there is some reason to its strange rhyme. For all its strange and varied phrases about seemingly-random objects and places, Kurtis has seen things like this before. His father used to see texts like these all the time come his way. 

“It’s code.” he shrugs. They both look at him curiously. “All these different phrases mean different things - sometimes other phrases entirely, or a couple of words could mean one.”

“Fascinating,” Alister breathes, and takes a fresh look at the other papers. “However, that surely implies that any one phrase could have multiple interpretations?”

“Sure,” he tosses the sheet back down to the desk, and the scholar hurries to right it. “No idea what any of it means though. The only thing I do know is this.” he points a finger atop the words scrawled at the very top of the first page, underneath the Lux Veritatis symbol. “My father talked about it - something called the Source.”

Lara’s brow quirks. “How very obscure.” 

“That’s what we’re known for.” something feels odd about saying that. Admitting he is -  _ was _ a part of the Order is strange. After running from it for so many years, there’s some sort of contentment in agreeing for once. 

Alister seems bursting with questions. “What does it do? What is it? How can it be used?”

“Read it and you might find out.”

“In the meantime,” Lara says with a sigh, “I suppose we should get to tidying up the rest of this mess.”

The library is almost cleared - there are still papers and books still strewn about, but the bookshelf is upright once more, as well as the table Lara had used for cover. Still, that doesn’t fix the bullet holes and smashed windows. Kurtis notices a flash of something in her eyes as she surveys the damage; it’s more than anger, or a thirst for revenge. She’s hurting. Then, as soon as comes, it’s gone. She picks up the nearest book, and begins making a pile in her arms.

Kurtis joins her, and before long, the only remnants left behind on the ground are torn pages and loose shards of glass. Vacuuming is not something he ever thought he’d see Lara Croft do, yet there she is, doing exactly that. He tries to tell her it’s probably a poor decision, but by the time he does she’s already ranting about tubes ripping and the like. Alister cowers under his desk as it goes flying out of the broken window. 

“Yo, the hell was that?” comes a voice from the doorway. Zip, with droopy eyelids and low-hanging dreads yawns, stretches, and enters.

No one answers. Lara breathes heavily, and then straightens up, dignified. She seems to have gotten some anger out of her system. Kurtis is glad there hadn’t been any items she could pick up in the Louvre - he imagines their escape probably would’ve went a lot differently if there had been. 

“Zip.” she says abruptly. “Tell me there’s a way to find out who attacked me, why, and where the hell they are.”

He blinks, once, twice. Then, he shakes his head and says, “I need more coffee.”

**-**

“Lara, I dunno what to tell you.” Zip mumbles over a mug in his hand, slouched in his desk chair. The blue light of his monitor reflects on his face in strange ways as he rocks back and forth. “They left nothin’. The guns you took off them mean nothing, they’re as common as anythin’.”

Frustrated, Lara turns to Kurtis, who leans on the doorway separating this room from the library. His arms are folded, and he looks positively moody with his brows drawn tight. She felt rather guilty - neither Zip’s nor Alister’s clothes had fit him, and Raoul hadn’t packed to stay. He was still wearing the bloodied and torn suit from the party.

“Your weapon,” she proposes, “Is there any way you can- I don’t know, sense it?”

Simply, he responds, “Chirugai.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Its name. It’s a Chirugai.” 

She looks unimpressed. “That doesn’t answer the question.”

Sighing, he shrugs. “No, I can’t. I tried already. It’s way too far away for me to reach it.”

"Damn." Lara breathes. Of course that would be too simple, wouldn't it? They could work off the assumption that the mercenaries were either part of or work for the Mafia she and Kurtis had severely pissed off, but what then? They can't keep stealing off one another forever. 

And what of the relics and weapons she kept locked up here? Where will they go, will anyone know what they are? What if news spreads that her house had been burgled and police come? 

One problem leads to another. And another. 

Without even realising it, her heart is racing, she feels dizzy. She half-walks, half-stumbles past Kurtis, who reaches a hand out to her. She waves him off, and sinks slowly and defeatedly into once-luxurious chair in the corner of the library. She feels eyes on her but she ignores them, staring down at her lap until she feels some semblance of calm again. What is happening to her? She feels so wrong all the time. Did she just have a panic attack? 

Softly, a voice comes from the library. "I-I'm not sure if it helps, but," Alister comes forward, and offers forward something small in his hand. "After Lara couldn't fight anymore, I heard them talk. I didn't have much memory left, but I recorded what I could." 

Lara blinks. She looks at Zip, and some feeling comes back to her numb fingers when his face lights up. 

"Alister you goddamn genius!" he exclaims, leaping out of his chair - the first sign of alertness. He rounds his desk, rushes past Kurtis and takes Alister's face in his hands. He kisses each cheek, much to the scholar's horror. "You beautiful bastard!" he continues, excitedly taking the small phone from Alister's hand, "Why can't I just give you that dumb doctrate?" 

She lets herself be hopeful. Up from her chair she gets, and asks, "And you can use that recording, Zip?" 

"If it's any good, yeah!" he hurries back to his desk, digging through plastic storage containers full of tangled wires. Somewhere in there is a wire he needs. "I can extract any voices I hear and extrapolate  _ some _ link, somewhere."

"Sounds like a long shot." Kurtis mutters, raising a brow. Slowly, Lara starts to smile. It's underestimations like these that make Zip so effective - no one would think anything of the short, young man. 

"If anyone can find a metaphorical needle in the haystack of the Internet," she says, "Zip is our man."

He gives her a wide grin over the top of his monitor. It was time to let him get to work. 

**-**

As much as Lara hates shopping, she really wished to go. Unfortunately for her, she is somewhat under house arrest - not a single man in the house agreed that she should, "Get out for some fresh air." She understood perfectly why it would be a poor decision to let her go, which is why she was willing to disguise herself. Still, she gave in, and watched Winston and Raoul drive off out of the house in one of Lara's convertibles. If more people were to be staying at her home, they would need more food - especially coffee - as well as new clothes for Kurtis. He's only a few sizes smaller than Raoul, who offered to shop for him, considering his current dress. 

And while Zip and Alister work, she doesn't have much in the way of progress to accomplish. Feeling useless and not at all helpful, she leaves the two of them to it - Kurtis offering what understanding he has on Lux Veritatis codes to try to decipher the message in the documents. Changing into a more comfortable black sports top and sweatpants, she decides to keep her mind focused on other things. Namely, some physical training. 

She heads outside for a short run, and then begins her assault course. It's fallen into some neglect thanks to her very brief stays as of late, but that just makes it more exciting. Wooden planks creak under her weight - some even snap - and mesh to allow her to climb tears whenever she pulls. Still, Lara pushes herself as much as she can. She's not exactly making record time, and feels incredibly sloppy. Desperately trying to keep her mind solely focused on the task, and nothing else, she keeps climbing, testing the mesh to the left before shimmying with her upper body strength alone onto a safe platform. The zip line pulley is up here, but she's almost frightened to try it - rain, misuse and neglect has probably left it rusted. Against her better judgement, she gives it a shot. 

And she immediately regrets it. The handles snap, and she slips, tumbling into the water below. She wouldn't mind if the water wasn't absolutely filthy; it's a murky green, there are dead leaves and insects floating on the surface, and some sort of algae grows in the corners. 

"Very graceful, Ms. Croft." 

Lara pushes her wet hair back from her face, and meets the eyes of Kurtis, who stands at the water's edge, arms folded. Grunting in a muffled agreement, she wades to the edge, and pulls herself up, shaking off what she can. As she peels off her soaking gloves, she notices some movement from beside her, and goes still as Kurtis reaches out, and deftly pulls a leaf from her hair. 

"Thanks." she mumbles, and hurries to think of something to say. "Well, did you find anything?" 

"Not much. At least unlike my old man, I can actually write down what I understand though." 

That makes sense. If it were code, then translating it back when they were hunted by the Cabal meant having to understand it mentally. It would be too risky to translate it on paper - being unable to destroy such a thing would be deadly. 

"I do know one thing." Kurtis continues, "It's not a missive. None of my father's letters had ever been written like this. I think it's a sort of information thing, meant for finding this Source." 

"Why do you want it?" she asks, with genuine curiosity. 

"Why do you?" 

Despite the turnback of her own question, she answers honestly. "It would have led me to you." 

"And you think I can help you get out of this Monstrom mess?" Kurtis tucks his hands in his pockets, and stares up at the sky. "I don't know what I can do for you, Lara. There's a reason the Lux Veritatis were a secret. No one's gonna believe us." 

"To be honest, just knowing there's someone else alive who knows the truth is reassurance enough, for now." then, she turns to look at him. "Your turn." 

Kurtis shrugs. "My father told me about the Source when I was younger. It was a lesson in morality, he said. The Source could grant a member of the Order incredible power, like nothing that can be seen naturally in one of us." 

"Like the telekinesis?" she asks. It seems like it should be strange to ask something like that, but after all she's seen, it feels completely normal. 

"Yeah, though stronger, 'able to move mountains,' or so he would say." he snorts in disbelief. "Still, it came at a terrible price, and so they locked it away for all time. It would be rediscovered someday, and either be used for good or evil. I can't figure out which I'll be when I find it."

_ When _ . He is intent on it, it appears. Lara begins to walk, and silently, he follows. She sets a slow pace around the gardens, thinking silently for a while, and then - 

"So you think the Source will restore your powers?" she asks. 

"That and more, yeah." Kurtis looks down at his feet kicking at gravel. Each step clears the same distance in the same time. "I feel… Weird without them, as much as I tried to run from them. I want them back."

"Why do you think you lost them?" before she can get an answer, she stops, and looks at him curiously. "Weren't you limping last night?" 

His lips twitch upwards. "Yeah, I was." and he flexes his fingers before shoving his hand back in his pocket in annoyance. "And now, my powers are gone again." 

Lara closes her eyes, and tries not to let her confusion show. 

"Your powers are a tradeoff for regeneration." she states, shaking her head. She isn't sure whether it could even be possible. 

Kurtis shrugs. "Maybe, I don't know. I've never heard of it before. Probably nature's way of giving us a leg up against whatever the hell it throws at us." 

"But how?" she asks, suddenly curious. She wants to ask a million and one questions. "Can you do it on command?" 

"Only when I sleep," he gestures to his leg. "When I went to sleep last night, my leg was a wreck, wouldn't stop bleeding. Then, when I got up and heard those assholes attacking your butler, it was as good as new."

Her mind is whizzing. Regeneration during sleep… imagine if everyone had that ability. Deadly diseases, infections, life threatening wounds, healed overnight. To innocents, it would make a world of difference. Though, she thinks, to men that want the world under their fingertips, a power to virtually never die would make them gods. She supposes she's glad, in an oddly morbid way, that those with this gift are either on her side, or dead. 

Then something clicks. “Do you suppose that’s why you only woke in the Strahov two weeks ago?”

He nods in agreement. “That’s what I’ve been thinking. When I tried crawling out of there, I thought I was going to die in that shithole. I should’ve died - that bitch got me bad.” silently, he begins unbuttoning his shirt. 

“What are you doing?” she asks, taken aback. 

“Relax, look.” when he’s finished, he presses his fingers against the skin of his abdomen, where a horrifying scar rests. It’s wide - impossibly wide. Unconsciously, she reaches out to touch it, trailing fingers across rough skin. He’s as immovable as stone.

“That’s where she got me.” he says, simply. “Right through, from behind.”

“There was so much blood.” Lara murmurs, voice quiet. She looks up at him, brows pulled tight. “What are you?”

He snorts. “Really unlucky.”

Such a wound - it should’ve been impossible to survive something like that. Yet, here he is, hale and hearty as if the scar was fake and not a reminder of his ordeal. It would make sense that a recovery from a wound that life-threatening had taken so long.  _ It must scale with severity _ , she thinks.

Silently, she buttons his shirt back up for him, one by one. His eyes follow her hands, and don't look up when she's done. With a teasing smile, she taps his chin up to look at her. 

"Come on then, unlucky," she teases, "Let's go see if they've learned anything." 


	6. Chapter 6

It's so impossibly cold. Despite the doors being sealed shut, an icy drift of wind creeps into the helicopter. Lara fiddles with the zipper of her coat, but it's as high as it will go. The fur around her neck does little to assuage it.

Across from her, Kurtis is warming his hands with his breath. They had both been idiotic enough to wear fingerless gloves, and she was sure they'd regret it when they left the relative shelter of the helicopter. Over his thermal, he wears his holster, from which he keeps his handgun handy - he'd showed it off to her earlier in the trip, a custom-built weapon he named the Boran X. She was impressed, and positively green with jealousy. She wanted one. Beside him, he had a shotgun, a gift from her in case they needed it. They most likely would, if they encountered their targets. 

_ "The Jackals," Zip had proudly announced earlier, "That's the group that attacked us last night." _

_ "Jackals?" Kurtis echoed, a brow quirked.  _

_ "Heard of em?"  _

_ "Somewhat, when I did some work for the Agency. Their leader's ruthless, takes no shit from anyone."  _

Their leader, as Zip had introduced, is a man named Damien Gallagher. Supposedly, he was the very man who struck her down in the dark, from behind like a coward. When she finds him, she has special treatment indeed planned. 

The only problem with their plan was their destination. Lara has returned here since the incident years and years ago, yet she's still uncomfortable travelling through the skies above the Himalayas. Somewhere in these mountains lies the wreckage of a plane in which Lara Croft died. From it, another woman emerged, no longer ladylike and delicate. She became a survivor. Yet she was not immune to haunting memories; waking up in the night after nightmares of freezing to death, of watching herself give up in a burning plane. It felt wrong being back here again, like treading on the grave of someone she wishes to never be again. 

Somewhere in the northwest of Nepal, the Jackals have made their home. She barely sees how it's practical for a European mercenary group can base themselves in such obscurity, but it is perhaps how they've eluded most of their victims and enemies both thus far. Yet, no one gets the better of Lara - despite being outnumbered, she and Kurtis will take back what has been stolen. She trusts him to have her back, and he too, she hopes, trusts her. 

Eventually they reach a small village covered in snow. It's hard to see for the way it falls, obscuring their view, but sure enough if Lara stares down out of the helicopter for long enough, dark silhouettes appear against the white. Raoul is hesitant to touch down with the heavy snow, so Lara is content to rappel down. She and Kurtis both descend slowly against the wind, and the snow crunches under her boots when they run out of air to traverse. She signals an OK to Raoul, unsure if he can even see it. The helicopter takes off and disappears into the snowy sky - they can't afford him being spotted. 

"Well then, Ms Croft," Kurtis says loudly over the snowstorm. "What's our plan?" 

She glances over at the huts hidden in the snow. There aren't any townspeople about - perhaps they have frightened them away. Regardless, she begins into the village, between ramshackle houses with roofs that droop under the weight of the heavy snow. It's silent aside from the occasional crunch of snow underfoot; it's absolutely beautiful. Serene and pure, heavy snow all around them. If not for the cold, she would be positively content to stand here and watch it forever. As they walk, Kurtis alert beside her, Lara takes the time to check the device Zip had entrusted to her before they left. There's not much for him to hack out in the wilderness, he'd said, so he stayed behind. Instead, he gave her a device that would display a helpful map and their location relative to their destination. The Jackals supposedly hide out not far from this village. She wonders whether the townspeople are content with the arrangement - they're most likely too terrified to dispute it. 

They leave the relative safety of the village without seeing a single person. Worriedly, she begins to think they're in a ghost town. Would the Jackals be so savage as to murder an entire village to keep their hideout secure? She shudders to think so, and when Kurtis looks over she blames it on the cold. Then again, the people of the Himalayas aren't always the most friendly, and perhaps they really have scared them into their homes. They're the ones with guns, after all. 

After a time, Zip's device starts beeping on her belt. Curiously, she takes a glance at it. The satellite map doesn't show anything aside from snow, and yet it believes it's led them to their destination. Irritated with its noises, Lara switches the device off and sticks it inside her backpack - if they are anywhere near where they want to be, announcing their presence with incessant beeping certainly won't help. 

Kurtis slows his pace beside her. There's a rocky outcrop just before them, only visible by a few patches of exposed stone under snow. Wordlessly, he beckons to her, and they take shelter under its small overhang for a moment. 

"That thing thinks we're where we need to be?" he asks, nodding at where it used to hang from her belt. 

"Yes but I can't see  _ anything _ ." she complains, taking another quick glance around the rock. The heavy snow quickly gathers on her lashes and she's forced to take cover again to warm her nose. 

"You can't," he murmurs, "But I can." 

"What do you- good God." 

He doesn't respond. Lara's horror subsides after a moment, but she can't look at him for very long despite it. His eyes have rolled back into his head, leaving only a ghostly white staring back, as pale as the snow around them. By now she should be used to strange things happening around him, but when  _ he _ is the one that causes it, it's difficult to simply nod and pretend it is normal. 

A mere few seconds later, Kurtis returns. He gasps as if he'd been underwater for minutes, and blinks rapidly. Instinctively, her hands go out to support him, one on his back and one on his chest. Through his jacket, he's hot - terrifyingly so. No one should be this hot in this climate. It's like the worst fever one can imagine; she's scared to imagine how burning hot his skin must feel. 

"I'm good," he coughs after a moment, and waves her off. "That's usually bad enough, but when I'm weak like this it was on a whole other level." 

"What did you do?" she breathes, simultaneously disturbed and enraptured. 

He sits up, presses his back up against the rock. "We -  _ they _ called it Farsee. I can… Leave my body, I guess. I just checked out over yonder." he pokes a thumb behind him. 

Yet again, she's forced to keep her questions to herself for priority's sake. "What did you see?" 

"About twenty metres out there's two mercs patrolling - past that, they have a whole bunch of helicopters and Jeeps, they're kitted out. They're in some sort of temple, or maybe a tomb." he looks at her pointedly.

With a smile, she says, "Wonderful." 

She gets up to go, but Kurtis quickly grabs ahold of her arm and pulls her back down. When she glances down at his hand with a raised brow, he lets go immediately. 

"We need a plan." he says decisively, a serious, hard look in his eyes. More so than usual. "We're outnumbered, we can't go in guns blazing." 

_ Why ever not?  _ she almost asks. But, considering they're  _ supposed _ to work together, she guesses she should let him have a say, especially if he wants to avoid getting injured any more than he already has around her. Then again, with his handy little trick, she wonders just how many times he's been hurt on his own and walked away fine. 

"Alright. What have you got?" 

He seems taken aback that she agrees. He masks his surprise quickly, and stares hard at the snow at his feet. After a second, he traces some shapes into it with a finger that gets very red and icy by the time he's finished. 

"The two patrols seem to only go so far around the perimeter." he says, and points to short lines he's made around a square. "They cross here, and when I looked, they were chatting and smoking. With any luck, they'll still be there." 

She nods, and gestures to the square. "I'm guessing that's our tomb?" 

He looks at her, displeased. "Not ours - I'm not dying there if that's alright with you, Ms. Croft. But yeah, tomb, temple, old abandoned strip club, whatever." 

Satisfied he's finished with his diagram, Lara kicks it to the snow drifts. "This is the middle of nowhere, you won't find any strip clubs out here." 

"Damn," he says, a little too impassionately. Giving her a small, teasing smirk, he continues on, "Anyway, we circle round those guys and use their parking lot for cover to get inside. Sound good?" 

"Sounds perfect, Mr. Trent." 

They make a start on Kurtis' plan. He takes the lead, cautious, but he moves like he's walked this path a dozen times. They curve through the snow to the east, and eventually, dark shapes appear through the storm. As they approach, another, much larger shadow looms behind it; they take cover behind a black Jeep, partially snowed in, and Lara gasps to see the building beyond. 

Built almost like a pyramid, the stone building rises to a point from the ground. There are tall archways, three at this side, that provide some shelter and an entrance to the interior. Given its structure, very little snow covers its top aside from a small flat platform that forms the peak, where the corners join and flatten. Along it's walls, there are beautiful carvings; they decorate the pillars as well. What they depict she isn't sure. 

Kurtis moves. He heads out from behind the, Jeep, almost silent aside from his feet grinding snow with each step. She follows, both incredibly nervous and excited. She's done this sort of thing dozens of times but it doesn't make each life-threatening situation any less tense. Still, the structure has gotten her curious, and she wonders how practical it would be to study it after they clean out the Jackals. 

They cross the short gap between vehicles and the edge of the temple completely fine. It feels wrong - getting in has been far too easy. They're definitely here, as they're well equipped and display it out here like they're not afraid of losing them to the weather. Yet, there's been no one, not even the guards Kurtis had claimed to see. It feels as ghost-like as the village they had passed through. 

"Kurtis," she calls softly, and pulls on his arm before he climbs the ledge to the arches. He stops, and looks back. "Something is wrong." 

"I know." he agrees without hesitation. "This is too easy. Be ready for anything, I guess." 

Once they're both up and over the ledge, they equip themselves. Lara, with fully-loaded dual pistols, raised and ready. Kurtis opts to pull the shotgun from his back, ready for close-range. Cautiously, they enter the temple. 

It's very dark in this passage. The arches lead into a thin corridor in which they're forced to go one at a time, and it seems to lead around the square structure from the corner they reach. After they make the turn and walk a bit further, a doorway opens up to their right. Kurtis steps out first, shotgun at the ready, but it's deadly silent aside from his boots on the ground. Lara follows, and spins cautiously, pistols outstretched - but there's nothing. 

"This is clearly a trap." she grumbles, and sighs. "That aside, this place is incredible." 

"Yeah," he agrees absentmindedly. "Yeah it is." 

She isn't sure what part he agrees with. Still, she takes the relative quiet as an opportunity to study this room a little. Across from their entrance, there are tall stairs that lead to what looks like a flat plateau directly underneath that of the roof. There is a perfectly cut square-shaped hole in the roof, from which daylight and snow drifts down. The stairs seem to be mirrored on all sides, making the place seem overly symmetrical - perhaps even ritualistic. Curiously, she approaches the pillars that line their path; they appear on each side of the hallway between their entrance and the wide room with the stairs. There are delicate carvings that depict things she has never seen before. She can't make out any people, or any particular object. They seem to simply be decorative. 

The part that catches her eye, however, is each pillar is marked with one engraving that looks much more recent than the rest. It's not recent enough to be in the last few years - perhaps in the last fifty, or hundred, unlike the base carvings which look maybe even thousands of years old. 

"Kurtis, have a look at this," Lara calls, and he lowers his shotgun and joins her. Her fingers trail over the rough edges, and the dark stone is very cold under her tough. 

"What the hell?" he breathes, and reaches out as well. Their fingers brush as he traces the shape with familiarity. 

The Lux Veritatis crest is undeniably there, carved almost roughly into each pillar. Kurtis quickly walks off, and checks each one. There seems to be a sort of pattern, from what Lara can tell, but she doesn't understand it - like the hands of a clock, the tail end of each symbol is turned a different angle. If it were like any other strange tomb puzzle she's encountered in the past, the pillars would perhaps spin or retract. These are set in stone - quite literally. No matter how much she tries to budge them, they don't move or react at all to her. However; she didn't mention it, but around Kurtis, they seem to buzz or hum with an ancient energy she can't possibly understand. She felt it when their skin touched, like a small zap of electricity and she had quickly pulled her hand back without appearing alarmed. It was the same strange warmth that he had been when he had used his Farsee earlier, or when he has used his telekinesis around her in the past. Perhaps it's another thing she simply does not possess the knowledge to understand, yet. 

"I think it's some sort of mechanism." Lara grunts as she gives up trying to manipulate one of the pillars. "See how each is different? I think they should be ordered in a certain way."

"Yeah but how?" he examines a pillar across from her, leaning close to the engraving. 

She steps forward to examine the room further. He expresses some concern but she assures him she's done this before. She climbs the stairs in the center of the room, and finds nothing. At her feet, however, there's what might be a hatch, or perhaps a pedestal. There's a crest that's clearly been here far longer than the Lux Veritatis; some sort of deity, perhaps, a face half bear, half man, simultaneously roaring and screaming. Quite honestly, at this point these sorts of displays feel cliche in temples and tombs. 

Returning to Kurtis, Lara shares her discovery. On top of it, she explains the sensation she'd felt when he'd touched the pillar; "Perhaps you can move them with telekinesis," she suggests, "Turn them to face a certain order." 

"But we still don't know what order." he says with an exasperated sigh. He's clearly not cut out for dealing with the long-dead designers of ancient burial sites. 

For a time, her patience had been as fickle, after Egypt. When on Eckhart's tail, however, she'd learned to appreciate a good brainteaser, and this place sets off every nerve of curiosity she has in her body. 

"No, but we have to see if you can do it, first." she gestures to a pillar behind her. "Give it a shot. Try not to bring the place down on us." 

He gives her a pained look - he looks so tired already. "Even if I can, I don't know if I have it in me to move all of them for trial and error. I wasted a lot of energy on seeing how to get in here." 

She can't show her frustration without appearing unjustly angry at him. She isn't, of course, but this is why she grew accustomed to working alone - relying on the talents of others that she doesn't possess leads to too many dead ends to be practical. 

Still, if he can't do it, he can't do it. Defeated, she ventures to the stairs, and takes a seat. She examines the room for a time, wondering if she's missed a back door or some piece of the puzzle. If she'd brought explosives she could've destroyed the entrance, simple as that. But with a place this old, who knows what damage that could've caused? 

Kurtis remains on his feet, and spends a length of time staring at each pillar. From the small bag hanging from his belt he pulls a sort of notebook, and she's a little taken aback he even carries on like her. She watches him scribble a copy of each symbol down, and he's lost in his thoughts. She isn't sure why he's still trying - at this point, she was sure he'd be content to go outside and beat the answers out of the patrolling mercs. 

"I've got it," he says, suddenly, and comes over to her. He sits beside her and leans close, showing her his notes. Despite the hurry, the sketches of each symbol and its corresponding pillar are surprisingly accurate, and his print writing legible.

"Hold on," she points to one of the drawings, along with a letter he's written next to it. She doesn't recognise it. "Where did this come from?" 

He gestures to the pillars. "It's underneath the symbol." 

She gets up to double check. There's nothing there. "Are you sure?" 

"Yeah, right there." his finger points at flat stone. 

She decides not to press it.  _ Just accept the weird, Lara _ . she thinks. They lean their heads in together over the leather-bound notebook. 

"Each of them mean different things, obviously. These runes - I never really learned fully what they meant so I'm mostly guessing, but from what I can tell, they translate as numbers." he flicks through the pages quickly, and she catches glimpses of various maps, sketches and pages full of written text. Near the beginning of the book, there's a codex of sorts, with a multitude of different symbols and characters with English equivalents. There's some crossed out. "I translated most of them but we'll have to guess the last two." 

"These are fascinating." she comments, and holds out a hand, a silent request to see. He hesitates, but allows her to see in the end, and she doesn't push his curtesy by going past that first page. It's seemingly a random selection of words, phrases - barely any of them share a theme aside from the numbers. 

"But yeah, each letter corresponds to a number. I don't think I have to move them, I think I just have to…" he struggles for a word for a moment. "Touch them? Prove I can do it. Some obscure shit like that." 

"Are you up to it?" she checks. 

Kurtis shrugs. "I'm gonna have to be." 

She offers him the notebook, and he flips back to his notes on the room in which they stand. She stays at the stairs and watches him check the book, and move to each corresponding pillar. Feeling quite useless, she tries not to show her frustration. If she's going to continue with him to find this Source after they've taken care of the Jackals, then she'll demand some lessons in what he knows of Lux Veritatis scripture. 

He settles into routine quickly. She watches him approach the first pillar, and settle his palm flat against the crest. His eyes close, as if concentrating, and there's a very, very brief flash of an orange glow - she's seen this before, when he manipulated his Chirugai. When he steps back, the crest remains glowing like a flame. Lara feels like she has to sit on her hands to stop her curiosity from getting her on her feet to go and look closer. 

After a while, all of the pillars glow. Kurtis looks significantly paler than he had before, but he behaves the same - putting on a brave face, perhaps. She noticed the order Kurtis had guessed didn't at all correspond to the angle of the symbols. Her first assumption that each one matched a number on a clock face, but he knew better. 

"What now?" Lara asks. The room is no longer silent; there's a soft, lulling hum. She feels warmer, like the air is no longer so icy. Maybe it's her imagination.

"We probably would've heard it if it opened already, huh?" he glances up at the top of the stairs. Then, down again. Sighing, he collapses next to her, boots kicking up at the snow that's fallen from the ceiling. 

She stops. "Wait, what's that?" 

From the steps, she gets on her hands and knees, scrubbing away at the snow. When he'd walked through it, she was sure she'd see something glisten - dusting away the snow, her fingers touch freezing metal. He joins her, and soon it's been cleared, revealing a plate with a similar design to the platform at the top, though the man appears less terrifying. The difference makes the platform seem more ominous, now she thinks about it. 

"This must be the final one," he notes, pointing towards the Lux Veritatis crest etched into the man-bear's forehead. 

"Alright." she nods, but quickly grabs ahold of his wrist when he reaches out. "You're certain you have the order right?" 

Irritated, he says pointedly, " _ Yes _ . It makes no sense any other way." 

"As long as you're sure." she lets him go. 

Lara waits with bated breath - he extends his hand, putting his weight on the other outside of the plate. He's slow, and cautious, maybe a bit too much for someone so sure of himself. Just before he's about to flatten his hand to its surface, he stops. 

"Did you hear that?" 

She stops and listens. There's not much from the humming of the runes, but that was already there. Frowning, she shakes her head. 

"Maybe I'm just paranoid." he sighs, and flexes his hand. "Alright, here we go." 

It goes silent again. His hand presses down on the plate, and he closes his eyes. Not a moment later, they shoot back open again. 

"Lara!" 

Before she can even think of a question to ask, he's dived towards her. He's heavy, and pushes her down to the snow with so little resistance she wonders if she could even hold him back if she'd been ready. Unfortunately, her head doesn't receive the same soft landing as the rest of her upper body - it bumps off a step behind her, and a sharp pain shoots through her skull. Furious, she pushes at him.

"You better have a good reason for scaring me like that!" she snaps, rubbing the back of her head as he pushes up from her. He isn't looking at her - his eyes are focused on a few steps up. 

Silently, she turns and follows his gaze. Her eyes go wide. His -  _ someone's  _ \- Chirugai is lodged in the stone of the stair behind her. The blades stuck in the stone are protruding, silvery and sharp, whilst the ones pointed towards them are retracted. As most as they can with the rotation of the weapon, anyhow. They look stuck. 

"Was that you?" she breathes, a hand hovering over where the nearest weapon lies. It just so happens to be his Boran X in his holster. 

He takes a moment to respond. "No." he says. "That wasn't me." 

Both of them jump alert at a third voice joining their conversation. 

"I wouldn't have touched that if I were you." 

Kurtis jumps up from her, but not before she has ripped the handgun from his holster, aimed it up, and fired a bullet towards where the voice came from. By the time she's up on her feet, Kurtis has his shotgun at the ready, and she sees whoever had spoken was holding their hands up in a gesture of peace. They silently share a glance, and it's enough to agree not to fire again for the moment. Their - correction,  _ his _ \- weapons remain pointed at the newcomer. 

Slowly, the stranger gets to his feet at the top of the stairs. Lara doesn't recognise him. She shouldn't have expected it to be the man she's looking for, but she still feels a little disappointed. 

"Forgive me for startling you," he says, calmly. He's an American, like Kurtis. Definitely not their target. "But if you would've touched that last rune, the floor would've opened up and you'd find yourselves impaled on pretty sharp spikes." 

Lara gives Kurtis a pointed look. He doesn't take his eyes off their target, but his eye twitches the smallest bit. 

"The order was perfect. How do you know I'm wrong, smartass? You already done it?" Kurtis spits, and his trigger finger looks fidgety. 

"Well, yeah. How do you think I got in here?" he sticks a thumb over his shoulder, to where the platform with the face of the man-bear sits. 

Lara decides its her turn to ask a question. Taking a step forward, with both hands tight on Kurtis' Boran, she says, "You're not Gallagher. Who the hell are you?" 

The stranger glances between them, unimpressed. He looks to be a bit younger than her, but with his unshaved stubble, cropped hair and scars, he looks like a strange combination of battle-hardened veteran and fresh-blooded recruit.  _ A little like Kurtis _ , she thinks, though more boyish. 

"Answer the lady's question. Who the hell are you?" Kurtis backs her up. 

"My name is Lucas." he finally introduces, but his eyes are focused solely on Kurtis'' face, with some form of strange bewilderment. "I've been very eager to meet you, Brother Heistuurm." 

Kurtis doesn't seem to know how to react. At first, he looks surprised, fully taken aback; his shotgun lowers a little, his shoulders relax. Then, his brows pull tight together in a furious rage, and his shotgun goes right back up. Lara watches him with full curiosity - what had Lucas called him? 

" _ Who _ the hell are you?" he asks again, loud and snappy. 

Lucas comes down a few steps, completely at ease despite the guns aimed at his chest. He ignores Kurtis' question, and instead says, "You're the spitting image of your father. I knew it was you the second you walked in here, but we had to test how much you know." 

Lara sends Kurtis a glance, before back at the man coming down the stairs. 

"You knew his father?" she asks, though that seems like the thing that interests Kurtis the least. 

"What do you want with me? With her?" he presses. 

Lucas snorts, and cocks his head at Lara. "Her? I have very little interest in you, Ms. Croft."

Furious, she steps forward. Her finger gets increasingly closer to the trigger. "Then why did you attack me?" she demands, "Why did you steal from me?" 

" _ Steal _ ?" Lucas barks with laughter, doubling over. When he straightens up, he wipes a tear from his eye. "You're nothing but a hypocrite, Ms. Croft. All of the relics we took, you had simply stolen from the burial places of dead men. We have no interest in those. It's all bait." he waves a hand, and there's a scratch of stone. The Chirugai twitches - impossibly, it pulls itself out and dances through the air. Lucas snatches it and the blades retract. "As well as this lovely little trinket. "

Kurtis is seething silently. She thinks if he says anything, the shotgun might finally go off. 

"Bait for what?" Lara asks. 

Lucas smiles. His gaze goes back to Kurtis, and his head cocks, eyes lighting with delight. 

"For you, Brother." 


	7. Chapter 7

"What the hell are you talking about?!" 

It's very quiet in the temple. Lucas, regardless of Kurtis' shotgun pointed directly at his chest, steps down a few more stairs, playing with the Chirugai in his hand. 

"It's about time you embrace your destiny, Kurtis Heistuurm." he says, smiling as if saying the name aloud is a strange delight. "You know, before your father's death, he entrusted to you his legacy. He appointed you as his successor - not just to the Chirugai and Periapt Shards. By right of succession, you are now Grand Master of the Lux Veritatis, Brother." 

Lara looks at him. He looks like he doesn't know whether to laugh or blast a hole through the man before him. 

"That's impossible." he snaps. "My father wasn't even Grand Master." 

"By all intents and purposes, he was in its final days." Lucas shrugs, as if the death of an entire order was nothing to him. "Yet here we are. A humble servant begging the worthy successor to take his place and lead those left behind." 

Kurtis' shoulders shake a little. "You're still not making any goddamn sense! Who the fuck are you? How do you know about my father, about the Order?" 

Wordlessly, Lucas comes down the stairs. He only stopping when the barrel of Kurtis' shotgun thumps against his chest. 

"You really think you're the only runaway?" 

Nothing is said, for a moment. Lara is struggling to follow; there are too many gaps to fill, and so she guesses. Kurtis  _ Heistuurm _ \- another name, perhaps? Birth name? Grand Master, presumably the functioning leader of the Veritatis. Finally, the most puzzling part:  _ runaway _ . Kurtis ran from his heritage? Why? 

"It would only make sense." Lucas continues. "We're the mistakes the Order never let slip in presence of novices. We're the last ones left behind, when the rest are ghosts." 

After a moment, Kurtis, very slowly and hesitantly, lowers his gun. Lara doesn't really want to, but she follows his lead, and lowers his handgun to sit comfortably in her hands at her waist. 

"I-" Kurtis pauses, and then lets out a strange sigh somewhere between frustration and sadness. "I thought I was the only one." 

Lucas' smiley face twists into one of pained sympathy. After a moment, he lets out a breath, and reaches for his belt. The Chirugai unhooks easily, and he hands it over with very little hesitation that Lara can't help but wonder if he has an ulterior motive. 

But, Kurtis takes it off him and he does nothing. After a second, the blades snap open, very close to Lucas' face. 

His eyes glint with rage. "Now tell me what the hell's going on." 

"Easy, Brother," he holds up his hands innocently, takes a step back up the stairs. "Come with me, and I'll show you." 

Lara glances to Kurtis - he's looking back, both wary and interestingly, a little curious. Everything about this feels like a trap. The convenient knowledge of Kurtis' father, his heritage, the Lux Veritatis; it all feels set up. Of course,  _ if _ Kurtis was a runaway, then it would make sense that there would be more. But why not approach him directly, rather than all this conceit and theft? It certainly doesn't buy him any trust. 

There's a noise. Footsteps. Much more than Lucas can make alone. Kurtis seems to hear it at the same time, and there's barely a split second before their backs press together, weapons at the ready. Between each pillar, there's a Jackal in black tactical gear, weapons aimed right back at them. Sure, Lara could fire first - but there's that many of them, she'd be gunned down in seconds. 

Kurtis acts aloof. He snorts. "You'd kill me if I said no?" he asks, and his voice carries up the stairs to where Lucas stands. 

"Not at all," he calls back, and she can almost hear the smugness from having caught them off guard. "I gave you the Chirugai back, didn't I? No, no, my men are here for Lara Croft." 

"And what would they want with me?" she asks, tightening her grip on Kurtis' handgun. Her palms are sweaty despite the cold on her fingertips. "You've already stolen from me."

Lucas laughs. So hard, in fact, that when she glances at him, he's doubled over and wiping tears from his eyes. 

" _ Stolen _ ?" he echoes when he's upright again. "Such a hypocrite, Lara Croft. The only things we took from your house were things you in turn stole from the burial sites of dead men."

"To keep them from falling into the hands of living men like you!" she spits. The men around the outside of the room take a few steps closer. 

There's too many of them. They wouldn't make it out of this alive; one wrong move and she'd be full of bullet holes. How far does Kurtis' ability reach, she wonders? Would he survive something like that? She shakes her head - not the time to be considering things such as those. Especially not to imagine to test it, he'd risk his life, and she'd most likely lose hers. 

"Brother, this way." Lucas calls, almost sing-song. "You do want the Source, don't you?" 

Kurtis and Lara at once stiffen. Lara's mind races - were those men after the documents then? Was that their target? How did they know they'd been stolen from the Milan Mafia? 

"You're bluffing." Lara calls, "You don't have it." 

"No, not yet." Lucas says with a shrug. He seems very relaxed. "But we will, with Brother Heistuurm's help." 

"Stop calling me that, asshole." Kurtis snaps from behind her. His firm back presses against hers a little harder as he turns a little to look up at Lucas on the stairs. "You think I can show you where the Source is?" 

Lucas cocks his head, and gives him a small smile. "If anyone can, it's the son of Konstantin Heistuurm. You're a goddamn legend without even trying!" 

Annoyed, Kurtis clenches his jaw. "Well you're an idiot." he declares. "I couldn't find the Source - I never will without her." 

Simultaneously, she feels both smug and paranoid. Of course, she'd helped him retrieve the documents, and begin to understand them by introducing him to Alister, but she in no way claims to understand enough to find this Source. Then again, it's what she spent her life doing; following obscure trails to find ancient relics of mysterious power. Perhaps Kurtis' bluff wasn't as much of a bluff as she originally believed. 

"It would only make sense, I suppose." he says, glancing between Kurtis and Lara. "Why else would you work with a graverobber unless she has something to offer?" 

Kurtis glances at her, but she isn't at all bothered by his comment. She's been insulted too many times over the years to be even mildly offended by such a weak attempt. But his generalised wording makes her think - he doesn't seem to know of their past relationship. That could work in their favour. 

"Exactly." Kurtis agrees. It almost sounds like he's agreed with her thoughts, as well as Lucas' words. "Without her, there's no way we'd find the Source. She knows what she's doing." 

"I am standing right here, you know." Lara says, unimpressed. "I'd show you my credentials, but I'm afraid you stole all evidence of my ability to find the treasures of the dead." 

Lucas seems to consider their words for a moment. After a few seconds of silence, Lucas calls, "Lower your weapons." 

The Jackals look between each other, and then, after some hesitation, follow the order. They remain there with weapons out, watching.

He sighs, but in a somewhat half-hearted manner, as if he's not truly bothered. "You try anything funny, Croft-" he pokes a finger at her accusingly, " _ Anything _ , and you'll be gunned down right where you stand." 

Giving him a sweet smile, she raises the handgun in her hands up innocently, and appearing relaxed, she nonchalantly drops it into Kurtis' hand and waltz up the stairs. After a moment, he follows, appearing as cautious as she feels. Still, can't let him think she's scared now, can she? 

The Jackals stay put until they're at the top of the stairs with Lucas. He looks disgruntled at the idea of being stood between them, and so hurriedly climbs up the rest of the stairs and rounds the hole in the floor, where two halves of the plaque have folded inwards. There's a ladder, leading down into darkness. Of course it would be too easy to ask for an elevator. 

Kurtis glances at her, cool and collected. "Ladies first." he gestures to the hole as if its a simple corridor. 

With a sigh, she reaches into her pack. There's immediately dozens of clicks of guns, pointed directly at her back, but she holds up one hand in surrender, as the other slowly draws a set of thick glow sticks from her pack. Once the Jackals realise she's not a threat - not right now, at least - she glances back to check their weapons are lowered. 

Cracking one, she approaches the edge of the hole, and glances down. Eerie blackness stares back, with a cold and wispy howl of wind coming up to greet her. Just like any other tomb she's been in, she thinks. She can do this - it's not Egypt. She tosses it down the hole. For a while, she can see it fall, before it disappears in the darkness. 

"Well,  _ Lucas _ ," she says his name pointedly, eyeing him again with such a short distance between them, now. Is he younger than Kurtis? He certainly looks it. No creases and wrinkles from frowning and scowling like him, but his facial hair betrays him and makes him look older than he most likely is. "Are you going to come with us?" 

Lucas' lips twitch into somewhat of an amused smirk. "I'm yet to go down there myself," he admits, "I would be curious, but I'd rather wait up here. Let's see this as a test of what you can do - bring back whatever you find, Ms. Lara Croft." 

So far, he seems to like his  _ tests _ . One for Kurtis, one for her. Well, she's a woman who likes a good challenge. If anyone can find anything noteworthy in a place like this, it's her. Without further conversation, Lara begins the descent. The ladder feels rickety and old, and creaks under her weight. She looks up, and sees Kurtis glance down at her, Lucas at his side. He makes a move to follow her, but Lucas holds up a hand. 

"Just Ms. Croft please, Brother." he requests, smiling down at her. "You can wait up here, and we can talk." 

Kurtis scowls at him, and gives her somewhat of an apologetic look. "Sorry, Lara." 

She doesn't blame him for at least wanting to talk to the guy. "I'm used to working alone." she calls back, and continues down the ladder. 

It gets darker and darker down here. The light from above is already mostly obscured by Kurtis looking down, but the glowstick's light grows closer. Eventually, she thinks she's nearing the bottom. It's a decently long climb, and if she had been out of practise it would've tired her out easily. 

Her foot touches down on the next rung. She supposes she should've been more cautious with each step, but by now she's already bored of climbing down. The old wood splits in half under her weight, and her lower body falls with it. With a gasp, she clutches tightly to the rungs further up, grunting with the effort to pull herself back upright again and push her feet against the wall. 

"Lara! You alright?" comes a shout from Kurtis, far above. She's deeper down than she thought. 

"I'm fine!" she snaps, suddenly very happy he isn't down here. She doesn't need him worrying over such little things as fragile surroundings - that's a given in a place as old as this. "Just get chatting." she mumbles so only she can hear. 

Eventually, her foot touches ground bathed in bone yellow light - she retrieves the glow stick from the ground, and waves it around a bit behind her. There's not much in the darkness, not that she can see so far. She glances up, but the entrance is so far away now that Kurtis is barely a dark blue against the white morning light. She doesn't think he'd see it, but she gives him a wave anyway, and begins in through the darkness. In one hand, she carries in the glowstick - in the other is a loaded pistol. One can never be too careful. 

The darkness continues for a while. Curiously, she walks to the sides and feels for walls, and finds she's in a rather slim corridor that's completely blanketed in black. Her footsteps, despite trying to be quiet, are ominously loud down here. Strangely, despite the circumstances, she feels comfortable. This is what she's good at - this is what she does. Still, she doesn't trust this Lucas further than she can throw him. If she finds anything down here, its knowledge goes to Kurtis. After all, he's proved himself trustworthy enough on more than one occasion. Plus she likes him. Just a little. 

There's a break in the eerie silence. As she sets her foot down on the stone below, it gives way, sinking under the pressure. Her first instinct is to jump back, but her foot doesn't go far down; leaning down with the glowstick in hand, she sees a sort of pressure plate that's slowly retracting into the ground under her weight. From experience, these things either meant good things, or bad things. Sometimes both, but usually the bad came first. Shrugging, with not much to lose, she stomps down with both feet. 

The chamber comes to life. It's a wide room, carved out of the rock, lit with old sconces hanging from various outcrops of stone, or from a chain connected to the rough roof up above. It's almost like this place was far older than the rest, but never updated once the temple was built, much later. Originally a sort of ceremony room, perhaps, or burial site. Curious, she wanders down a set of short stairs to her left - the mirroring set on the right have crumbled. Even if this room's original purpose had been ritualistic in nature, it isn't anymore. Or at the very least, its previous occupants hadn't used it as such. 

There are old, wooden tables, chairs and shelves covered in spider webs and dust, left and neglected. There doesn't seem to be any access to the outside world from here, and yet bugs crawl all over the abandoned furniture, which withstands its new occupants; nothing is yet broken, despite how long it looks to have been left like this. The space feels large, until she's down with the old desks and bookshelves - it feels very cramped and perhaps even cosy, if not for the insects. She ventures up to the first table. There are some open books here, left open or stacked on one another. It looks like Alister's workspace had he left it unattended for a few dozen years. 

How long has it been like this? she wonders. There's still so little she knows of the mysterious Order Kurtis claims to be the last living inheritor of. She had guessed their numbers had been in decline when he'd first told her he wanted justice for his father against Eckhart, but she never imagined it had been so recently. Some of these books have publishing dates as recent as the 1940s. She had presumed this war to be one that had been ongoing for centuries, based on Eckhart's supposed age - at least before she had killed him. Yet this place, obviously once occupied by the Lux Veritatis, couldn't have been abandoned for more than a few dozen years, surely. 

Lara so desperately wishes to explore these books left behind. Some of them are more modern texts like those with printed dates on the inside cover - others don't even have a name on the spine, so old the writing within was done by hand and eventually faded over time. Still, she'd left Kurtis up there alone. She doesn't doubt his ability to take care of himself, but against an entire squadron of Jackals, he might struggle. Not to mention this mysterious Lucas, who can wield the Chirugai. He can't do it as expertly as Kurtis, she had noticed; the blades seemed almost reluctant to do as told, the disc itself wobbling through the air like a kite in weak wind. 

In a place like this, she knows exactly where the most important secrets would be kept. At the end of the hall, there's a short platform, upon which sits a pedestal. Without hesitation, but with due caution, she approaches, slim fingers tenderly reaching up to the open book upon its stand. Strangely, as her fingers run up and across the first page, it feels like dipping her hand into a bowl of water. It's warm, and vibrates a little against her skin. Immediately, she's reminded of Kurtis; the strange sensation that wraps around her whenever he uses his powers, the simultaneous fear and excitement that comes with the unknown. This feels different, though - it's not as purposeful or even as gentle as Kurtis' powers are. Once her hand is on the page, she can't take it off. 

"Dammit," she groans, "I knew this was too easy." 

As if on cue, there's some rattling behind her. Taking a breath, she turns as well as she can while one arm is wrapped to the pedestal. From beneath an overturned bookcase, bleachy bones clatter together in an unnatural way, jumping around so violently to reconnect. She at least gives it a chance - eventually, the skeletal remains of a Lux Veritatis monk, in tattered, brown robes baring their symbol, stands before her. He's missing an arm; it still wriggles from its prison underneath the shelves. 

"I'm sorry," she says, and reaches for the gun in her holster. "But I need this more than you do."

There's a loud bang as the bullet flies from the gun, and then a series of cracks as the skull breaks into hundreds of pieces. More follow - as per usual, more skeletons come after the first, surging up the platform in a slow, yet somewhat menacing wave. They stumble and shuffle, limbs twisted and bodies horribly mutilated. It's a terrible fate, she always thinks, to be used to protect a place from the living in death. She wonders if these men and women even agreed to this horrifying service after they lost their lives to the Black Alchemist. 

"He's dead." she sighs, as she watched the last skeleton clatter to the ground. "You have nothing to protect anymore. Rest in peace." 

Finally, she turns back to where her hand remains trapped to the surface. Eerily, she notices there are bones at her feet that hadn't come to life. Their remains wore clothing unlike the rest - presumably another who had come here seeking knowledge only to be trapped here forever. She shakes her head. There's never a situation Lara Croft can't get out of. 

Her hand isn't trapped against the book, per say. She can move somewhat, almost like there's a bubble of space around the book; she can't withdraw once she reaches further in. Awkwardly, she leans over, and examines the first page. There's two lines of text, the first, in Latin - " _ The Path of The Worthy _ ." she reads aloud, and scans over the second, "Brother Corcilius." the author, presumably. 

"Alright, Corcilius." Lara murmurs, and awkwardly maneuvers so her fingers can reach the edge of the first page. "Let's see what we have." 

The page doesn't turn. She doesn't tug too harshly for fear of tearing, but it's almost like it's been glued shut. However, due to the strange ward it appears to have around the entire book, there's probably more to it. Huffing, she examines the room once more. Up, above her head, there's words carved into the stone. More Latin.

" _ Submitting to fear will grant one strength _ ." she whispers, and frowns. "Whatever does that mean?" 

Fear - what does she fear? Admittedly, too many things to say aloud. But they're all situations, far too specific. Thinking quickly, she tries narrowing it to  _ this _ room. She fears being trapped down here forever; she fears being a damsel in distress when Kurtis inevitably comes to find her. She's already partly immobile - she supposes she fears losing both hands to the book. 

But perhaps that is the point. Quickly, she moves to place the other hand in as well, but stops. What if she's wrong? She can't shoot a gun with her feet, but she can't turn pages with them either. The skeletons can't rise again, surely? Then again, she's faced the living dead before that don't know how to give up on the living part. 

"Dammit." she breathes. Either she can risk it all and await a rescue, or do nothing and appear useless when it inevitably comes. With a sigh of defeat, she reaches down, and presses her second palm flat to the book. 

The world turns upside down. She'd feel queasy if she wasn't used to swinging around, but it's very disorienting to see the ceiling down below; her braid dangles down past her head, the bones of skeletons clatter to the ceiling, and a few uncracked glowsticks tumble from her slightly open backpack. They crack on impact, and uselessly glow a sickly yellow on the stone. She supposes it should be the least of her worries; the blood is already rushing to her head, and she'll be dizzy in minutes at this rate. Eagerly, she tries the book again. Pages finally turn, crinkling and bending a little at her hasty touch. It's a shame she can't take the time to read much, but  _ something _ in this book is important. It feels like something is guiding her, moving her hand to direct her to a page within. As she scans each page, there's some recognition - some of it is written in Latin, other parts in the same convoluted code that is in the documents she and Kurtis stole. The code is newer, written by a different hand. 

"Corcilius had an anonymous co-author," she murmurs to herself. 

She picks out a handful of words as she goes, various dialogues about differing relics and objects of power used throughout history. She sees the Periapt Shards be mentioned, and though her curiosity begs her, she doesn't stop to read about it. Whatever force telling her hand to keep going doesn't wait around for her to have a nosy read. Eventually, it stops; suddenly, her hands feel released from their bindings, like there had been ghostly hands holding her and moving her around like a doll. But with that, her feet seem to lose whatever mysterious grip they had on the floor. She scrambles and tries to grab ahold of something as her body twists with gravity. Her fingers scrape the book, but find nothing to hold her weight. 

Her feet ache when she collapses to the ground. It's not too far of a drop, but she's unsteady on her feet, and falls backwards onto rough stone. Over time, it's becoming harder to retain a sense of direction. Her exit should be above her, but the room seems to have tipped upright once more. That doesn't change the gravity of the space, however, as she still finds herself lying on what should be the ceiling. 

Still, as she fell, she had managed to grab ahold of the book. In her hand, she uncrumples the page that had torn with her weight, flattens it against the ground between her legs. Once more her braid flies past her, the heavy hair smacking her head as it goes. 

The second set of handwriting on his page appears like notes. The original block of text is hard to understand - using the notes, she figures out it's talking about the Source. It's not much she doesn't already know; a mysterious and immense power, but it doesn't describe what exactly it is. A weapon? Something one can wear? It describes the use of it is forbidden. The ways in which it might be used are omitted, but it tells of a terrible burden, or a sort of price to pay, the writer of the notes doesn't seem certain. However, towards the bottom, they've underlined a sentence from the original text, and paired it with a question mark. 

" _ Earlier manuscripts describe the path one worthy soul must take to discover a tainted gift. _ " she reads, and hums. Is perhaps the document they discovered to be considered an earlier manuscript? " _ In the utmost darkness of nights will one know where to walk. _ How very obscure." 

It's not much, but it will be enough. She folds up the torn page and slides it into the back pocket of her pants. Slowly, she rises, and feels the ground shake under her as she does. Cautiously, she takes a step, and loses her footing as the ground rolls to the left. With a grunt, she hits the floor, and the world goes steady again. 

"Of course it wouldn't be so simple." she mumbles, and slowly turns her body around so her head faces the door. As it does, she realises her estimate was correct - the world moves as she does, now. It tips and turns as she does, like a ball inside a miniature maze. Taking it slowly is her best option, so that she might avoid making herself sick; she rolls over, squeezing her eyes shut as the room goes with it. This has to be a sort of illusion, there's no possible way the entire room is on rotation. She begins crawling towards the door, the room below rocking with each movement. Eventually, she reaches the small set of stairs she had entered the room with, and stops. It feels like she's been crawling forever, but when she looks back, the pedestal isn't that far away. When she gets out of here, she's going to have severe words with Kurtis - why on earth are Lux Veritatis traps so stomach-churning just to protect some books? 

Lara rises, wobbly on her feet. She reaches up, and is able to just about grab ahold of the curved edge of the archway. Hauling herself up, she finds herself back in the corridor she entered through, illuminated only a little by the light from chamber. The world no longer spins on an axis as she does - she looks back, and sees the chamber still shifts with her in a way that only happens in dreams. 

She takes a step, and once more does she fall. Abruptly, the corridor rights itself, and she crashes to the ground. She groans, slowly hauling herself back up yet again; she hopes this place is done playing with gravity. When she had fallen, the last of her glow sticks had found a way out of her pack. Picking it up, she cracks it harder than it had when it fell, and uses it to light her path back. 

From her pack she draws out a small phone as she walks. It is a burner, picked up the other day by Raoul on request from Zip. He told her he'd worked his magic - she hoped he had. There was no way she'd make this call back up on land in front of their new friends, the Jackals. 

The phone rings a few times, and eventually, the receiving end picks up. The connection is weak at best, and full of static, but she can at least her him. 

"Yo, Lara, what's up?" she hears Zip on the other end, and crackled music faintly in the background. 

"I need to speak to Alister." 

"Alister, come 'ere!" 

For a second, there's not much noise. Then, the phone seems to be passed over, for Alister greets her with a, "Are you alright, Lara?" 

"Fine, Alister," she tells him. She thinks it's probably best not to tell him about the rotating room - he'd most likely be sick just from hearing about it. "Listen, I found something. There was a book here, with references to manuscripts that lead the way to the Source." 

"Those manuscripts may be what we have in our possession." Alister murmurs, as if deep in thought. 

"Yes, exactly. Scour every page for some sort of link to darkness, or night time. That's the only part I saw that might help." 

Alister sounds eager. "Right away. We'll call you back as soon as we find anything!" 

"Good luck." 

"You too, Lara." 


	8. Chapter 8

Very distantly, if he squints, Kurtis can see the tiny shape of Lara sending him a wave. He gives one back, but she's already disappeared into the tunnel, completely swallowed up by darkness. Reluctantly, he backs away from the edge; as curious as he is to see what's down there, he knows Lara gets stuff done well enough on her own. Besides, if he's not supposed to go, then he'll make himself useful too - time to find out more from this Lucas guy. 

As he comes down the steps, he's found Lucas has already found a way to make himself comfortable. Some Jackals are bringing in supplies; crates, folding tables, chairs. He sees a couple hauling in a generator. Lucas has already flipped out a chair for himself. 

"Planning on staying a while?" he asks, gesturing generally to everything happening around him. It's a little frustrating to see them so brazenly traipsing around and damaging what's left behind. This could be a resting place for whatever unlucky souls might have died out there, and Lucas doesn't seem to give a care. At least Kurtis has some respect. 

Lucas looks up at him, beckons him over. There's another folded chair placed on the floor behind him. Playing along, Kurtis sets it up opposite, and takes a seat. 

"Well, I figured since we're going to be going on a hunt for this thing," Lucas says offhandedly, "We should have a sort of base of operations. We're not taking all of this rabble with us." 

"You don't think Lara will find the Source down there?" 

There's a snort. "No chance. If I did, I wouldn't have let her go down there." Lucas taps the side of his nose, twice, with a finger. "No, she's finding our clue." 

Of course it wouldn't be that simple. He still isn't sure on how he feels about all this; there's a strange kind of anger mixed with the relief that he's not the only one left. Maybe he wished that the Order would've died with him - their goal was accomplished, by a woman not even of their Order. Why would they have to exist anymore? They're a relic of the past, nothing more. 

But there is some contentedness in knowing he isn't alone. He's not a man who trusts easy - it took him and Lara two messy meetings to come to some sort of alliance - and this Lucas appears to think he's owed it just by showing he's able to wield his Chirugai. His father was able to do the same, doesn't mean he trusted him. 

"You can relax, you know." Lucas says, breaking his reprieve. "You're with friends, here. No need to be so tense." 

"Friends?" he echoes, "You stole from both me and Lara. You had us at gunpoint a few minutes ago. How are any of you my  _ friends _ ?" 

With a sigh, Lucas reaches inside the pocket of his weathered snow coat. Kurtis' hand twitches to his gun, but he doesn't pull out a weapon of any sort. 

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to use this to prove it, but here."

He flicks something across to him. Kurtis catches it easily in a hand; a small, poorly wrapped ball of paper. Keeping an eye on the man before him - who now watches him with interest - he unwraps it, peeling away layers of paper that forms a ball much larger than the item inside itself. Both horrified and confused, Kurtis lifts the ring from the paper. 

"Where the hell did you get this?" he snaps, throwing the paper aside and getting to his feet. He's on Lucas in a second, grabbing ahold of his collar and dragging him up as well. There's some clicks of guns around him, but he doesn't care. 

"Easy, brother." Lucas holds up innocent hands, and gives a look to the Jackals around him. Their weapons lower. "It was a gift. We went to her, first, to find you. When she found out we were looking for you, she gave us this, so you'd listen." 

Kurtis' eyes narrow. "You went after my mother?" 

"We didn't harm her." he promises. With a huff, Kurtis pushes him away, taking a few steps back to pace. He glares at the guns pointed his way. Lucas, taking a breath, says, "She's on our side, Kurtis! She wants us to succeed, why can't you?" 

He stays silent. The ring in his hand feels heavy, especially when it rubs against its exact replica on his finger. Wordlessly he pockets it, under a zip against his chest. He'd have to check if it's real later - right now he has no choice but to give Lucas the benefit of the doubt. He and Lara have to play nice, for now. 

A hand clasps his shoulder. It's Lucas, who comes up behind him and gives him a brotherly smile. "Come on, I know what'll cheer you up." he says casually, "Let me introduce you to the others." 

"Others?" he asks cautiously, though there is some genuine curiosity buried beneath. 

"Sure! If I had a dime for every time someone thought I was the last one, I'd be a rich man!" he laughs, then stops, frowns suddenly. "Or not, it's a kinda passive personality trait." 

Lucas is far too plucky for his tastes. Plus, the way he has his arm around his shoulders feels like he's getting far too comfortable around him already - he supposes he can play along, for now. He doesn't trust him as far as he can throw him, but there's no harm in listening to what he's got to say, especially since he's outnumbered, and weak. His life was a fair enough trade for his powers, but he sure does miss them. 

"There's my girl!" Lucas finally lets go of him, and catches a tall figure from behind off guard. Or, at least, it looks that way until Lucas is inches from the ground, wrist bent backwards, free hand pathetically smacking at his attacker. The woman - who is clearly not  _ his girl _ \- looks at him writhing in pain with somewhat of a twisted but amused grin for a moment more, before releasing him. He crumples to the ground, cradling his arm to his chest and weeping in a way that doesn't even sound fully like true pain. Lucas can pretend too, it seems. 

She turns to Kurtis now, head cocked to the side and bright green eyes alight with judgemental curiosity. A gloved hand comes out from under a black cloak of a sort, extending to him in a wordless handshake. He's a little cautious to take it, but he does all the same, and her grip is surprisingly gentle. The second they've completed a single shake, she tears her hand back and disappears under the cloak. Her eyes burn into him with such wordless distrust he feels like he should back away just to be safe. He doesn't, though. 

"Kurtis," he offers, as Lucas finally peels himself off the floor. He huffs, shakes his arm, and stumbles to his feet, using an unwilling Kurtis as a support. 

For a long moment she stares at him. Finally, she averts her eyes to glare at the ground, both as icy as one another, and says, "Andrea." 

He can't place her accent, but the way it rolls off her tongue is certainly more exotic than any other person around here so far. With an olive complexion, dark and wild hair, she looks fitting to jump off the cover of an adventure novel. He doesn't look at her too long to avoid being rude, but she's not really his type anyway. 

Lucas coughs. "Okay, that's Andrea." he says with a shrug, and suddenly comes up to whisper in Kurtis' ear. He almost punches him out of reflex, but he already feels sorry for him after Andrea's treatment, not to mention the amount of Jackals in here with guns. "Don't surprise her, she's feisty." he whispers in warning, as if his previous demonstration wasn't enough. 

Kurtis can't help but snort. "Don't worry, I have my fair share of experience with feisty women." 

He pays no mind to his words, as if he had said nothing at all. He asks Andrea where a guy named Samir is - she doesn't seem to know, but even if she did she doesn't seem the talkative type, at least not to him. Reluctantly, Lucas gives up, and drags his feet as he wanders away to a new corner of the old temple. He guides Kurtis to where a collection of tables have been set up between some pillars. Behind them, against the wall, they have tall cork boards lined up and curved around the space, various papers, maps, diagrams and the like pinned to them. The area is well lit with lights, and there are wires almost everywhere; cables powering the laptops and various other monitoring machines set up on the tables. 

"Kurtis, I'd like you to meet Brother Clive and Sister Esmee; they’re our researchers, if you will." Lucas gestures to the empty space. 

There's movement underneath one of the tables, and a bang. A lanky man, with sandy blond hair and pale skin, topped off with a wonky pair of glasses, rises from the ground, rubbing the top of his head. He gives the new group a grin, leaning over the table to offer a hand. Reluctantly, Kurtis shakes it. 

"Where's Esmee?" Lucas asks again in a dry tone. 

Clive glances around, as if he hasn't noticed she was gone. "She was just- Esmee, come here!" he calls, with an accent Kurtis immediately recognises. Another British person, all the way out here; he's certainly not as well spoken as Lara, but it's unmistakable. 

"I'm here!" comes a notably feminine voice, chipper and completely out of place in current surroundings. A short girl with equally short copper curls shaping her round face comes from behind a board, waving a hand. "Don't worry, Lucas. I wasn't thinking about going to explore on my own, not at all." 

She sounds European, at least - French, perhaps? 

Her eyes light up when she sees him. "You look just like him!" she gasps, and eagerly reaches out to shake his hand. After they shake, she doesn't let go; she seems preoccupied with staring straight at him. "It's such a pleasure to meet you. Your father was a legend." 

"So I've been told." Kurtis mutters. How do all these people know his father? And, ironically, seemingly better than he did? 

"If I may, how old are you?" Esmee asks, standing on her tiptoes to try to reach his height. She can't. 

"Twenty-eight, why?" 

"Truly?" Esmee questions, as if she doesn't believe it; it's a little insulting. He supposes he frowns enough to make himself look older. She doesn't press it though, and explains, "I was curious to see what Konstantin Heistuurm looked like when he was young. Guess I've just found out!" 

The way these people talk about his father, he thinks, is strange. For runaways, they certainly have a lot of respect for a man who was faithful to the very Order they fled from until his dying day. Then again, Kurtis was a runaway, too, but he chose to return to fulfil his duty - he supposes nothing can be assumed at this point. 

"Mind if I ask a question now?" Kurtis asks, and Esmee immediately nods her head. She seems to notice she's still gripping his hand so tight her own fingers have gone pale. Bashful, she releases him and steps back. "Why band together runaways like this?" he glances between them all - an odd bunch, but individually they would've had fitting roles in the Veritatis. "Aren't you just recreating the same Order which we all ran away from?" 

Sighing, Lucas glances at Esmee and Clive. "We never meant to replace them." he says, simply. Surprisingly, he sounds melancholic and remorseful, unlike his confidence and offhandedness from before. "At first it was just us. We stuck together because we could contain weirdness between us and have some sort of normal life. Then we heard there's no one left on this earth but you, Brother Kurtis, to protect the world from darkness. And here we are, starting anew, better than ever before."

He almost corrects him - he did jackshit to "protect the world from darkness." All he did was sleep the weeks away. Lara did all the work, and paid for it. Still, he wants to see her face when he does, so he keeps it to himself for now. 

"And what's better, exactly?" he says instead. 

Lucas gives him an amused look. "You ran from the last one and you're standing at this one willingly. I'd say we're doing something right." 

Content, Kurtis shrugs and drops his curiosity. 

"There's two more you should meet, Brother." Lucas continues, "More like us. They should be around here somewhere-" 

Abruptly, there's a dozen clicks safeties. His heart jumps, but they're not pointed at him - from the top of the stairs, Lara emerges with her hands raised above her head, the very definition of annoyance painted all over her face. He would laugh, were it not for the dozens of weapons aimed directly at her. "Lucas-" he begins, with somewhat of a warning. 

"Chill," he says with a relaxed shrug. "They won't kill her as long as she's useful. Look." 

Jackals surround her, and take her weapons. One seems to get a bit handsy, because she swings her elbow back so hard into his head that he stumbles to the ground and almost tumbles into the hole she crawled out of. She causes a commotion as the men around her scramble to save their teammate. Her hand closes around the barrel of the nearest rifle, barely swinging it out of the way as a bullet fires, and shoves it back into the Jackal's face, hitting him square in the nose. He falls down the stairs with a yelp, and more Jackals rush in as she arms herself. It would've been an overall success had the one she nearly sent plummeting to his death not grabbed her ankle and sent her stumbling. 

A cry echoes in the temple as one Jackal gives her the same treatment, and smacks her in the jaw with the end of his rifle. More surround her, and Kurtis can't stand around watching anymore. 

"Cut it out!" he shouts as he begins an approach but Lucas grabs his arm, holds him back. He turns to him instead, "Tell them to stop!" 

Innocently, Lucas shrugs again. "Not my place, brother." 

"Alright gentlemen, that's quite enough." 

A new face enters the gathering. He's dressed like a Jackal, all black tactical gear with an ornate blade producing from a dragon's mouth dangling from this belt - Kurtis thinks his treasure hunting is probably the result of theft, most likely from Lara. He doesn't wear a mask like the others, showing off a strong, handsome jaw and chiseled features. He looks like the kinda guy Kurtis would usual and up punching - and from the vicious look on Lara's face, she really wants to. 

"Ah, Damien, there you are!" Lucas greets chipperly, throwing his hands up in welcome. "Ms. Croft, Damien Gallagher. Damien, Ms. Lara Croft." 

Damien saunters up, giving her a strange mix of an expression of complete seriousness, and a suave smile. There it is - the look that's usually punched out of them by now. 

"Lady Croft," he says, in a deep and sultry voice, with an accent not unlike hers. "An absolute pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

So he's the guy that beat down a woman in the dark, Kurtis realises. The list of reasons as to why he'd like to introduce his knuckles to that guy's face is growing longer. Gallagher extends his hand, palm upward. An unusual handshake - she looks like she's masking great disgust. But, smiling through it with overt sweetness, Lara places her hand in his, and he brings it to his lips. He gently places a kiss on the back of her knuckles. Reason number four. His hand itches. 

"And yours, Mr. Gallagher." she says, politely. The other men around her seen taken aback by her change in behaviour, Kurtis too. He forgets she's supposed to be a proper English lady - whatever that means. 

"Captain Gallagher, if you will." he corrects, with a small laugh.

"Ah, of course, silly me." she places a hand to her chest, waving her other. The perfect ditzy performance. "However, if I were to call you that, it would imply I have some respect for you and yours."

His eyebrows quirk, as if testing her words. She doesn't retract them, merely stands arms folded, a content smile on her face. It's genuine, now, he thinks. She has enough confidence to fill a swimming pool. 

"Very well." Gallagher shrugs, "I did not believe you'd lost every quality of a proper lady to savagery until I'd seen it. A shame, really." 

"Yes, it's most unfortunate for those that get in my way." she adds, looking under her fingernails absently. "They tend to see the savagery over any politeness." 

Quickly, Lucas interjects. "I'd imagine, Ms. Croft." he waves a hand at her, trying to rip Damien's gaze off her. They stare at one another for a long while, daring the other to back down. Eventually, Gallagher turns to glare instead at Lucas. 

"Now that we have Brother Kurtis caught up to speed," he continues, clapping a hand onto Kurtis' shoulder - still doesn't know how he feels about it. "Let's continue with some introductions, shall we?" 

He waves off the Jackals, who slowly back off from their posts surrounding Lara. 

"Can we have a second, first?" he proposes instead, raising a hand. Lucas causally waves a hand, gives him the go-ahead, but Kurtis notices how closely both the captain and Lucas watch he and Lara as they walk a short distance away. "You okay?" he asks, his voice low. 

"Of course I'm okay." she huffs, but runs a hand against the reddening spot on her jaw. "More importantly, I think I found something." 

Always business. "Yeah?" 

“There was a book down there, protected by some sort of… I don’t know, but whatever it was, it was clearly a trap. I managed to tear out a page with what I think is a clue on it. I’m waiting for Alister to get back to me, so until then, let’s play nice.”

“You sure you can manage that?” he asks, and he isn’t sure who’s more surprised that he’s teasing instead of being as deadpan as usual - her, or himself. 

“Don’t push your luck, Mr. Trent.” she warns, before beginning off back to where Lucas and Gallagher are staring so hard at them he thinks they might burn a hole in him. “If I might ask, Mr. Gallagher,” Lara begins casually, eyeing his belt. Damien raises a brow. “Where on earth did you come to possess such a fascinating relic?”

Grinning from ear to ear like a sly cat, he unhooks the dagger from his belt, holds it up to the light, and runs a finger along its sharp edge. “Oh, this old thing?” he chuckles, “Isn’t it a beauty? I had the pleasure of parting this beautiful blade from an unappreciative collector. Now it finally once more sees the light of day.”

Lara smiles too, her plum coloured lips looking so sweet it could kill a man. She probably would if there weren’t dozens of armed others around. “You know,” she waves a hand at it, “If you plunge that dagger into your heart, you’ll become an almighty dragon that no man will be able to stop. You’d be a force of nature, Mr. Gallagher.”

The Jackal captain snorts, and attaches it once more back to his belt. “Nice try, Ms. Croft. I’m no fool.”

“You say that, but…” she shrugs dismissively. Kurtis isn’t sure whether to believe her or not. It sounds so bizarre it might as well be true with all the shit he’s seen.

Abruptly, there’s a happy tune so out of place that Kurtis thinks his mind is playing tricks on him at first. But no, it continues, and the others look about for the source, so he’s clearly not imagining it. With a wordless groan of annoyance, Lara charges up to him, and takes him by surprise when she reaches around him. From the back pocket of his jeans she pulls a tiny phone, that sings a song so delightful it’s like something out of a kid’s cartoon.

“Where the hell did that come from?” he asks, a little alarmed. How did he not notice that was there?

“I put it there.” she says decisively, and flashes the caller name in his direction. Alister. “Well?” she asks, to Gallagher and Lucas, who both look amused by the whole ordeal. “Am I allowed to answer?”

Lucas nods his head at Kurtis. “It’s his phone. He answers.”

Reluctantly, Lara hands it over. It’s a small phone, plain and silver. He flips it open, and presses it to his ear. Without even having to give a proper greeting, Alister begins chatting away at the speed of light.

“Is Lara alright? She didn’t answer her phone! What’s going on, who is this? This better be that Kurtis fellow, or so help me God I will find you and I’ll-”

“Relax, buddy.” his head hurts already. Was this guy always so loud? He thought the other one was the noisy one. “Yeah, it’s Kurtis, and yeah, Lara’s fine.”

Alister snorts indignantly. “What is it with you Americans and thinking I’m your friend? Christ.” then, he breathes, and thankfully, his speech slows down a bit. “Anyway, Lara asked me to look into this particularly vague words she found. Well, of course, nothing is too vague for me, I’ve spent the last fifteen years studying myths for goodness’ sake-”

“Alright, get to the part where you tell me something helpful.”

Lara gives him a glare, but he ignores her, and turns around. 

Alister sighs, but gets on with it. “She asked me to look at mentions of darkness, night time, the like. Of course, considering your Order is focused on  _ light _ , it’s practically everywhere - vanquishing darkness, destroying it, et cetera, et cetera.” Kurtis holds back the urge to groan. Scholars never fail to drain his patience. “But, there is one particular phrase here that I think you’ll find useful, it’s a bit of a mouthful I’m afraid -  _ only one led by the light of truth will find a taste of home buried beneath shifting sands in lunar light _ .”

“Someone give me a pen - say that again will you?”

“A please wouldn’t hurt-”

“Just say it again.”

Not a moment later, the call ends. He thought that Alister guy was alright, but time wasters drive him mad. Now he looks at the slip of paper in his hands, written in hasty and somewhat messy scrawl, and rereads it over and over. By the fourth time, he still doesn’t understand - Lara comes over and looks, and shakes her head.

“That’s far too vague,” she says, “Do you know what it means?”

“I haven’t got a clue.” Kurtis admits, with a shrug. Wordlessly he glances up at where Lucas stands, watching them curiously. Behind him, Clive comes forward from his research station, looking very much out of place with a deer-in-headlights expression beneath his askew glasses. “You, Clive, isn’t it?” he asks, nodding at him. He nods too. “Any idea what this could mean? It’s a Lux Veritatis riddle.”

Lara doesn’t look very happy as he hands it over, but she has little choice. Between them they have no idea what it could mean - others with experience might. 

Clive snorts, pleased with himself. When Kurtis gives him a look, he plays innocent, and asks, “What, you  _ don’t  _ get it?”


	9. Chapter 9

In the sunburst sky of the Namib Desert, three helicopters soar like great hulking birds. Two, military grade, large enough to carry a squadron and their horde of weaponry each, lead the way, their blades chopping through motes of sand flying up from dunes below. The last, a smaller personal vehicle, chases with the larger one with greater speed dipping ahead from time to time. From the side of it, Lara peers down into the sands below, a dozen different memories rushing through her mind as her heart races in her chest. Still, she keeps her composure - there's no chance she'd show weakness to these Jackals. 

Wordlessly, she tugs down on the zipper of her coat. The air is hot, but she's sure she'll miss the fur in her coat as soon as night falls. She tears it off, and throws it somewhere into the helicopter behind her. It's breezy when they soar through the air like this, but it won't be for long when they land. Behind her Kurtis has already done the same, tugging on the collar of his black tee - a mistake in retrospect, probably - to try to cool down. It's a harsh change in environment from what they'd prepared for. 

"Come sit by me," Lara calls, one leg dangling over the open door of the helicopter. 

Kurtis looks at her, deadpan. A drop of sweat rolls down his jaw and drips onto his shirt. "No thanks." he says dryly, "I don't really wanna fall." 

"Oh it's only sand." she dismisses, but her eyes go glassy when she looks down at the mass of burnt orange beneath. Suddenly she feels her stomach clench, and she feels sick. "Perhaps you're right." she says abruptly, and comes away from the door. She's not afraid of heights - she's afraid of what's below the sand. 

His eyes are still on her, brows pulled tight - it would be a frown if that didn't just look like his usual expression. When she meets his gaze he immediately looks away, and focuses instead on the view out of the open door. Absently his fingers run around the edge of the Chirugai in his other hand, where the blades are hidden away under the metal. She half expects it to snap open without warning. 

"Still nothing?" she asks, softer than she intends. 

He lifts the disc lazily, and his hand shakes a little with the strain. It rattles in his grip, and then, the second she thinks it'll open fully, it snaps back with such force his whole arm shudders. With a sigh, he lets his arm drop back to his lap.

“Nothing.” he agrees. “The sooner we find this thing, the better.”

Slowly, she settles into the row of chairs opposite him. From here, she can peer through the doorway in the wall behind Kurtis, and spot Zip tapping away at his laptop, his head bopping to the music blasting through the headphones he wears over his dark, jagged hair. In the glass beyond, she spots a blur of black that wobbles in the waves of heat in the air - Lucas and the Jackals are on that chopper. Gallagher, too, with his stolen dagger.

“Do you really trust them?” Lara queries, and her eyes meet his, for a second. Then his eyes flash down to the weapon in his hands, never quite able to hold her gaze for long. He looks weary, tired maybe; there are dark circles under the eyes hidden beneath locks of dark hair. He’d shaved before they left, but some stubble is coming through along his jaw and neck, and he scratches at it from time to time. She notices, under his left eye, is a small scar, that follows the curve of his cheekbone, and then cuts back down again. She wonders how he got such a wound.

His shoulders lift and drop quickly in a shrug, and a hand comes up to wipe his forehead with the back of his forearm. “Not as far as I can throw them.” he says, and tugs up the sleeves on his shirt, folding them at his biceps. Lara knows she shouldn’t, but she can’t help but admire the view. For a little while, anyway.

“This coming from the man who can move things with his mind.” she comments with a small smile. There haven’t been many of those lately.

Without lifting his head, his eyes look up at her with an unimpressed quirk of the brows. “Without telekinesis. And all of them at once.”

“Not very far then.” she teases.

“That’s the point.” Kurtis sighs, rises, and tucks the Chirugai onto his belt. There are two belts around his waist, one in the loops of his jeans, the other hanging tight over it, where there’s a small hook attached. “Doesn’t matter really, though,” he says, and goes to the open door, peers down to the wide stretch of sand rushing by below. “They want the Source as much as we do. They have no reason to lie about where we’re going.”

It’s silent for a moment, as Kurtis grabs ahold of the bars above his head and watches the view. He’s right, she supposes; Lucas wants her to find it for him, and she can’t do that if they lead her to the wrong place. Still, it all seemed a bit far fetched; an ancient Lux Veritatis outpost buried in the sands of one of the largest deserts in Africa? Why did they have one here? Clive claimed it had been lost long ago in the war against the Nephili, but if it had been lost so long ago, how did he know where to find it, and how?

Still, the riddle made sense.  _ In the utmost darkness of nights will one know where to walk - only one led by the light of truth will find a taste of home buried beneath shifting sands in lunar light _ . There were only so many Veritatis bases, Kurtis had said, “Or at least that I know of.” he’d added. If that was the case, it could only have meant the outpost here; they probably didn’t have many  _ buried beneath shifting sands _ . In reality, it was a rather simple puzzle. She had been annoyed, initially - if only she had more knowledge on the secretive Order she would’ve been able to answer it herself.

“Looks like they’re landing.” comes Raoul’s voice from the front of the helicopter, and Lara rises to join him and Zip at the front. Kurtis follows behind, though there’s not much room; she doesn’t show a reaction when she feels his chest brush against her. Raoul glances over his shoulder at her briefly, then nods to the chopper in front. “There’s a patch of flat ground, thank God. Looks like a perfect time to land too, sun’s gonna go down soon.”

Raoul pulls the helicopter to hover for a while. They watch as some Jackals descend ladders from the larger one doing the same before them. Curiously, she leans on Raoul’s chair, peering over his shoulder. 

“What the hell are they doin’?” Zip asks a little too boisterously, and Kurtis wordlessly yanks hard on the headphones he wears. With a yelp, he scrambles to catch them before they hit the ground, and the music is so loud Lara can hear it from where she stands. Zip gives Kurtis a glare, but he returns one that’s far more fierce; so much so Zip quickly turns to look back at the Jackals, instead.

“Clearing the landing zone, I’m guessing,” Lara observes. They seem to be using some sort of makeshift broom in the form of a large tarp, holding it between them in pairs and hauling it across the platform and swiping the sand down the hill beside it. After a few more rounds, the helicopter descends, and it’s not a moment more until Raoul follows suit. Lara checks her pistols, and tugs on a vest; its pockets are filled ammunition.  _ Just in case _ . 

As the helicopter touches down, Kurtis drops out, quickly followed by her. With a heave the door slides shut - it may be hot but she’d rather Raoul and Zip are safely inside the giant metal shield, rather than vulnerable. Jackals are already pouring out of the helicopter that landed, and the second is still hovering overhead - not enough room to land. Reluctantly, Lara waves Raoul off, and without hesitation he follows the order. He swaps places with the other helicopter. The amount of wind generated by the blades send her hair whipping about, and more sand flies up back onto the stone plateau. 

Lara presses a finger to the piece in her ear. “I’ll call you when I need you.” she tells Zip, and there’s an affirmative on the other side, before her helicopter takes off back the way they came. They won’t be more than twenty minutes away, she thinks, if she needs them she can stall Lucas and his goons.

“Thank you kindly for the space, Ms. Croft.” comes a voice that makes her want to simultaneously squirm and punch the nearest face - unfortunately the nearest face is Kurtis’, and she wouldn’t do that to his.  _ What a waste that would be _ . Damien Gallagher saunters up with a rifle over his shoulder, and it would be threatening if he wasn’t sweating buckets in his tactical gear. 

“You’re quite welcome, Mr. Gallagher.” she says in kind, and thankfully she doesn’t have to strain her voice, for the engines of the helicopters die down.

Gallagher chuckles. “How many times do I have to say it, Ms. Croft?” he gives her a smile many women would find charming. “Please, call me Captain.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so unprofessional as to do such a thing. Only formalities among business partners.” her voice is as sickly sweet as she can manage, and she sees how irritable he quickly becomes when she realises how much she’s twisted his words against him.  _ Arrogant men _ , she thinks with a smile,  _ Always so easy to manipulate _ .

She steps away, from between the two helicopters, ignoring how Gallagher watches after her. The sun is slowly creeping towards the horizon, but there’s nothing around for miles. Just sand, sand, and more sand. She can already feel it in her boots, crunching between her toes. She faintly notices Kurtis beside her, and then another figure joins. Lucas leans an elbow casually up to Kurtis’ shoulder, relaxing with a hand on his hip.

“Gorgeous view, huh?” he asks with a grin. The hand over Kurtis’ shoulder waves a hand in the direction of the nearly-sunset.

“Yes.” Lara says dryly. “But where’s the outpost?”

Lucas shrugs. His hand waves extravagantly, then a finger points down. To their feet. “Down there. Maybe? That’s why we stopped here, we’re sending Damien’s guys to look.”

She doesn’t even stop herself. A long groan leaves her as she presses a hand to her forehead, wiping away the strands of hair that stick to her skin. This is exactly why she works alone - other people are so utterly incompetent! Apart from Kurtis, he’s somewhat capable; well, apart from that one time he promised to get that Periapt Shard from Eckhardt and got captured and used as bait instead… She shakes her head. Almost as if he can see exactly what she’s thinking of, Kurtis glares at her. Or, maybe it’s because of the disappointed reaction. Or just the sun in his eyes - not everyone has sunglasses like her.

There’s a loud clang, and there’s a few Jackals dragging what looks like some sort of drill out of a helicopter. Alarmed and confused as to where on earth they stored such a thing with so many of them in the chopper, but she doesn’t bother to ask. Her eyes immediately go to Damien, who watches, relaxed. 

“You’re not letting them drill through the stone.” she says, as if there’s no question about it. Gallagher gives her a brief side-eye, and says nothing. “You’re not serious!” she huffs, “I’m surrounded by idiots! Do  _ not _ let them drill through the stone.”

“Whyever not, Ms. Croft?” Gallagher asks, folding his arms and casually turning to face her. In the orange sunset, she sees more creases and frown lines on his face than she originally thought were there - is he older than she thought, or just stressed? She doesn’t really care. 

“Because the outpost could be right beneath our feet. Don’t be a fool, Gallagher, if we break down into it we don’t know what the hell we’re getting ourselves into. We don’t want to ruin anything.”

Kurtis helps out. “She’s right.” he says, “I mean, I think she knows how to handle some ruins, don’t you think?”

“Thank you.” she breathes in relief - finally, even if it was just to please her, someone with sense. “Order your men to dig in the sand, look for an entrance. If I hear that drill, by the love of God, Gallagher, I will break something.”

Damien chuckles at her, then rubs at his nose with a sniff. Some sand comes away on his glove, but he steps forward to his Jackals. He waves them off.

“Happy, Ms. Croft?” he asks, with one of his infamous smiles. He turns back to his men, and she sees the second he turns away it twists into a grimace. “Take that with you in a Jeep, maybe you’ll find some use for it.”

“Jeep?” Kurtis echoes, “Where are you planning on going?”

“Brother, it’s not  _ definitely _ under our feet.” Lucas laughs, as if it’s obvious. “Clive said it  _ might _ be here. Some Jackals are gonna sweep the nearby area. Ain’t that right, Damien?”

Gallagher smiles sweetly. “Of course, Lucas. That’s what you pay me for.”

Lara doesn’t want to know quite how much Lucas is paying for an entire mercenary company. She doesn’t know how, either; he doesn’t exactly strike her as the rich type. Still, they did steal priceless artifacts from her home, so maybe that’s their payment. Not if she can help it.

“Well you must find it fast.” Lara reminds them, and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “The riddle said the path will be revealed in  _ lunar light _ . We have to find it before the moon rises.”

“For you, Ms. Croft,” the Jackal pack leader says with a suave bow, “Anything.”

-

It’s been a while since Lara has been at the sight of an archeological dig. A loud, and not very scientific one, but a dig nonetheless. Certainly, she’d been to the one hidden beneath the Louvre, but breaking and entering can’t count. This time, she’s wanted here. To some extent, at the very least - Kurtis had supposedly convinced Lucas of her value as an asset in this hunt.  _ And so he should _ , she thinks. She isn’t just good at what she does; she’s the  _ best _ . Still, it’s also a little unnerving. The last tomb she entered, a forgotten place hidden beneath sand, she thought she wouldn’t ever leave. She tries to bury the thought, but it keeps coming back, sending her heart into nervous stutters. 

It’s hard to concentrate with all the banging and shouting, but she tries. The Jackals are busy trying to dig their way under the stone plateau on which they landed. Every now and then she hears a shovel hit stone, and she has to stop herself from going out there to make sure they’re not trying to break through it. At least they’re considerate, somewhat; some had set up tents while others dug, and now she has one all to herself.

Well, she did until there’s knocks against the metal pole holding up the entrance.

Quickly, she folds away the scrap of ancient paper, and shoves it into the pocket of her pants. She’s somewhat glad for the clothes she wore, as the desert is freezing under the night sky. She scoops up her loose hair in one hand, a hair tie between her teeth, as she pulls aside the flap to the tent. She supposes she isn’t surprised to see Kurtis outside, watching a pair of Jackals across the way digging away at a mound of sand.

He looks to her when it’s open, and she nods for him to follow her in. It’s not like her to invite men into where she sleeps, but for him she’ll make an exception; he proves quite useful at times. She takes a seat on the cot while she begins to braid her hair, fingers moving deftly and quickly through the dark strands like it’s second nature. She never had her mother do it for her. Yet another thing she learned on her own.

“Are they making much progress?” Lara asks through the hair tie in her mouth. Finally she finishes the braid, and twists it around the end. She notices he’s covered in a thin layer of sand, and his hands are red. She eyes them for a moment; he’s been helping.

As if he noticed, he wrings his hands together, and cracks each finger. “Kinda.” he says, and goes to peer out of the gap between the flap that dances ever so slightly in the wind. “I don’t know if it’s here, Lara. I don’t know what the hell that platform up there is, it could be  _ something _ , but I don’t know.”

“If it’s around here somewhere, they’ll find it.” she says calmly, and she believes it herself. It would be difficult  _ not _ to stumble upon a ruin with a team this large. “It’s only a matter of time. Hopefully sooner rather than later - I don’t really want to be here when the sun comes up.”

He hums, and lets go of the flap to the tent. It falls back again, giving them as much privacy as a wall of fabric can. Wordlessly, he comes over to the cot and sits beside her, but she notices his leg is twitching. Bouncing up and down, like a nervous reflex. He seems preoccupied, his mind elsewhere.

“You look like you want to say something.” Lara comments. It gets a quick sideways glance from him, before he clasps his hands together in his lap, and stares at them.

“It’s just weird, you know?” he finally says, after a further moment of consideration. “I didn’t know what we’d find when we chased those guys out there, but I didn’t ever expect more of us. Veritatis, I mean.” he leans back, rubs his neck, and then gets to his feet again. He starts pacing. “An Order that size, there was obviously going to be more runaways than me. I don’t know why I never thought about it. It never crossed my mind that there might be some who escaped that bastard Eckhardt.”

He says the name with such pure hate that it takes her aback a little. Kurtis may be very straightforward and sometimes rude, but nothing he does or says ever feels vindictive. Eckhardt had murdered his father, his Order, and how would she know how much those things meant to him? In a different way, she can relate to his hate; Eckhardt had ruined her life. He’d framed her for murders she would never, ever commit, and now he’s dead. He got away without answering for his crimes.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” she begins, and his pacing slows. Kurtis looks at her, and for the first time, doesn’t look away the second their eyes meet. His eyes look so tired, but so strong; there’s so much fight left in them, even while it looks like there’s nothing left. “Why  _ did _ you run away?”

His face changes to one of slight surprise, as if it isn’t what he expected. How could he not expect such a question, when he had presented himself as a loyal defender of the light when they had first met? He had behaved like the sole hope for humanity against the darkness, the very pinnacle of what the Lux Veritatis stood for. And now she learns he was a runaway, once; it doesn’t add up.

“For all the good things they tried to do,” he says, and his voice is low. His eyes match, looking distantly at the ground, as if his mind is travelling through a memory. “They fucked up a lot.”

“How so?”

He snorts, in a sardonic sort of way. “Where do I start?” he runs a hand through his hair, pushes it away from his face where it sticks. “When I was born they were already at war. My father was a big name in the Order - you could probably tell from the way Lucas talked about him.”

“Heistuurm?” Lara recalls the name, “That’s what he called you.”

“My father - Konstantin Heistuurm.” he admits with some sort of disappointment. Or maybe that’s regret in his eyes, she isn’t sure. “My real name is Kurtis Heistuurm. I changed it when I ran away so it’d be harder for them to find me.”

“ _ Them _ being the Order? Or Eckhardt?”

“Both.” 

Quietly, he lets out a groan. He comes to sit back beside her again, but his leg is still this time. When his palms rub against his jeans, however, she realises they shake a little.

“I’ve never told anyone this.” he tells her, and his eyes flash up quickly to her under his hair. “I suppose it’s about time someone knew. I ran away because living in the Order was hell. The training was hard, it you messed up you were pushed even harder, no one got a break. The worst part was that they forced it on kids - little kids, as soon as they could walk and talk. It got worse as I got older, I had the harder training but I had to watch kids younger than me go through the same shit.”

She doesn’t want to push him on it; he’s purposefully avoiding any sort of description. He seems scarred by it, and she’s amazed he’s able to open up to her about it like he is. She hasn’t told anyone about Egypt. She  _ can’t _ . Everyone has their own demons, but Kurtis is stronger about his.

“Because of Eckhardt and the Cabal, and whatever Nephilim crap that was going on in the background, they were desperate for more soldiers. It didn’t matter if they were veterans or cannon fodder, they’d send anyone they could to hold onto what we had left. They were hunting us down, Lara.” Kurtis breathes in. Then out, softer. “I was a coward, I guess. Because of my father, I was expected to do great. Sure, I did; when I was sixteen I went through my final test. Then at nineteen I was gone.”

Hesitantly, she reaches out. Her hand touches his shoulder; sand digs into her skin between them, but she isn’t too bothered. In all honesty, she isn’t sure how to console someone like this. Maybe once she was capable of some reassurance, but when she thinks of her own trauma, she can’t imagine how anyone could possibly help her. He doesn’t move away from her touch though. He doesn’t even react.

Lara speaks softly. She doesn’t mean to, but it feels wrong to raise her voice louder. “Where did you go?” she asks.

“The Foreign Legion. They take anyone and everyone, and I wasn’t the most messed up one there.” he rises to his feet, takes a few steps, looks at the ground. He doesn’t face her. Her hand settles back in her lap. “Well that’s my sob story, you know the rest. Eckhardt killed everyone. I did something about it.”

“You came back.” she says, mostly to herself. “That took courage.”

“I guess. The damage had been done, though, huh? I couldn’t bring my father back, or anyone else.”

“You did something when the world was at stake. You can hate yourself all you like, Kurtis, but you can’t pretend what you did meant nothing.”

She supposes it wasn’t the most graceful way of putting what she wanted to say - it’s probably not in the supportive handbook to encourage someone to hate themselves. Still, it gets a reaction out of him. He looks to her, as if to gauge she  _ is _ serious, then ponders what she says for a second more. 

“It’s not gonna change what I was like back then, but-” Kurtis, for a moment, looks to be at some semblance of peace. “Thanks, Lara.”

Wordlessly, she nods. She looks down at the floor. He does too. Neither says a word; she doesn’t really know how to follow up that conversation. Still, it’s nice to finally know something about him, even if his past is a little dark. She hopes that he won’t ask, but she knows he’s a decent enough guy to. She really hopes he won’t-

“Now that you know what crap I’ve been through,” he says, casually, “If you need to get things off your chest, hit me.”

_ There it is _ .

Thankfully, she’s saved. There’s shouting outside, louder and more urgent than before. They share one look before they’re both out of the tent, and a cheer breaks out among Jackals. Curious, they follow the sound, and an impressively wide path has been dug into the sand, that curves downward and into what looks like a gaping doorway to blackness. Sand pours in as they try to clear away the blockage, but it's somewhat of a simple task of raking it aside now. Gallagher and Lucas stand by, watching morbid expressions - Lucas looks more serious than she'd ever seen. It looks sinister, on the face of a man who has only shown a hyper attitude. His eyes glance over the soldiers, and find the two of them stood amongst the crowd; she locks eyes with him long enough to feel an all-too familiar prick of doubt. There's something wrong about him. 

"Well," Kurtis glances to the doorway into the abyss, "Let's go tomb raiding." 


	10. Chapter 10

Lara has only rarely felt fear in her life. When she was younger, and what should've been a simple plane flight home became the fight of her life, then she has felt fear. When she returned to her parents a changed woman, she felt fear; fear they would do exactly what they have done, cast her out, disown any relation. Since, she has thrived off the adrenaline, the rush. The confidence that must come first to fight a man and come out alive. She felt fear again, in that Egyptian tomb, when she reached for Werner's hand - and he drew it back. When she lay, in agony, crushed under stone and rubble, voice hoarse from the screaming, she had never felt such a raw terror of death. There hasn't been much fear since. She didn't think she could reach such a low again, so she danced so carelessly with death that she half expected it to catch her. 

Now, staring into the gaping mouth of the tomb, she meets fear again. 

She's alone, watching the Jackals prepare from a distance. It feels further than it physically is; her mind is a million miles away, in a place as dark as the unlit tunnel. Gallagher is there, loading ammo into an automatic rifle. Somewhere in her mind she knows it's a good idea to be over prepared for a place like this, but that part doesn't connect with what she sees, and instead imagines in that split second her turns it on her, and fires. He doesn't, of course. He slings it over his shoulder and becomes distracted by something else, completely unaware of her staring. Lucas is nearby as well, chatting away with the two he'd brought with him - a slender woman named Andrea and a man called Samir. He's brutish and tall, as wide as a horse and probably just as strong. She imagines he'd be strong enough to crush her skull like cardboard. 

Kurtis had gone to speak with him, he'd said, before he vanished. Kurtis - with his supernatural strength and deadly aim. He could've killed her a million times over. In that seedy little cafe she first laid eyes on him, he could've put a bullet in her head faster than she would've known. In the Louvre he could've chopped her head off with the Chirugai if he'd aimed for it. Beneath the Stahov he could've left her to suffocate in the airlock, or shot her dead when he came back for her. He could've saved himself and left her to fight that disgusting creature. She could've been the one left behind. Like Egypt. _ Oh God, she's spiralling. _

A single touch is enough. A hand, on her shoulder - it sets her off, nerves at end. She turns to the attacker, to death, and refuses to go quietly. _ Never again. _ As the knife she pulls from her belt goes to plunge, she stops short. Blue; dazzling blue stops her. Alarmed, wide eyes, arms moving to defend himself but not hurt _ her _. 

Breathing ragged, she quickly pulls the knife back. It's shameful - she hides away under the loose strands of her hair, tries to steady her shuddering hands. "I'm sorry." are the quiet words she breathes. Then, stronger, voice level. "You caught me off guard." 

Kurtis, for a moment, doesn't say anything. He relaxes, posture slipping to one less braced for attack, and then says, "Are you okay?" 

Ordinarily she would be strong. She would say, "Of course." and continue as if nothing is wrong. But there is something wrong, and she can't afford to be a liability if she panics again. Looking up, her eyes meet his. "I will be." is what she says instead. "Just a little scared of tombs, is all." 

"Lara Croft - _ the _ tomb raider - is scared of tombs?" he seems doubtful, a hardset frown on his face. He doesn't push it though. 

“Let’s just get on with it.” she huffs, decisively. When she’s in there, in her element among the ruins, she will be alright. As long as she doesn’t remember Werner, she’ll be alright. 

Together, they approach Lucas, happily chatting away with his Veritatis friends. He looks up at their approach, a friendly smile upon his face - yet it is strangely smug, as if finding this ruin was all his doing.

“You ready to see how our fathers used to run the show, Kurtis?” he calls, and slaps a hand on his back when he gets close. Kurtis, playing along, smacks him back, but hard enough to make him stumble; Lara barely hides her smile. 

“We’re here for clues, nothing else.” she reminds him. 

“All business, Ms. Croft,” comes the voice of Damien Gallagher, as he swaggers up behind her. With a grin, he swings a rifle over his shoulder, and cock his head at her. “Do you _ ever _ have any fun?”

“With the right people.” she agrees. Kurtis, beside her, snorts.

“Dead people.” he says. 

Moments later, they stand before the gaping mouth of the ruin. Lara, a hand against the makeshift doorway, glances inside. Her eyes narrow, but she cannot make anything in the darkness. She goes to take a step inside, determined to get over her fear and show nothing but bravery to the men watching. Taking the flashlight offered to her by a smirking Damien, she goes ahead. 

It’s so eerily silent. After a moment of nothing but a gentle but howling breeze at her feet, other footsteps join her. It’s oh-so-cold in here, and she finds herself content at Kurtis’ approach - the air around him feels strangely warm, like a glow in the dark. She shines the flashlight on their path, and soon more flashlights follow; Damien and Samir hold one each, helping to light the way. As they delve deeper, Lara ensures to keep a hand ready on one pistol; she’s fought enough undead to be prepared at any time to put a bullet in the head of someone long dead. 

The slim passage, only wide enough for one at a time, leads down a set of thin stone stairs that she barely puts a heel on before it comes to an end. She has to hold in a laugh when she sees Kurtis behind her putting his much larger feet sideways in an attempt to keep himself steady. At least it distracts her and cheers her for a mere moment, but then the stairs end. 

Eventually, they come to a halt. They stand before a precipice, which hangs down to an abyss she cannot see the bottom of. Abruptly, she is reminded of the dig under the Louvre, and the ruins that lay beneath that still. She wonders if, in the case they made it down there safely, they’d find a Lux Veritatis knight refusing to go down with a dozen bullets in him.

Kurtis whistles. “That’s deep.” he comments, carefully gazing downward to try to gauge the distance. Then, he leans towards her. “You know, if I still had my powers I could throw you down there without breaking a sweat. Or you breaking a leg.”

She huffs a strand of hair out of her face. “Then aren’t I glad you don’t?”

“Just saying, stick around with me long enough, Ms. Croft and you won’t have to do much more climbing. Period.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Lucas and the others come to join them at the edge. Lara is cautious to back up a bit, and put a hand on the wall behind her back; _ just in case _. The Veritatis leader looks down the hole, screws up his face, and sighs. He rubs at the short facial hair on his chin, then, seemingly reluctantly, he looks at her. 

“What do you suggest then, Croft?” he asks, in a tone that simply screams displeasure. “Is it worth going down there?”

She shrugs. “Not until we’ve checked this entire room behind you.”

All of them turn. She’d noticed it on the way through, of course, but a good explorer checks all angles, especially the most obvious first. Most times, she’s found the most obvious route will almost always lead to a dead end, or be blocked, and then comes in the side passages that will show her a way through. Perhaps, in a perfect world, they’d find a staircase.

Then again, in a perfect world, she wouldn’t be in this mess.

“Well, well,” she breathes, lost in the momentarily, peaceful bliss of discovery. The stairs they took do not lead to the abyss they had seen when they entered, but a room very similar to the one Lucas had sent her down back in the Himalayas. Except, she hopes this one does not turn on a pivot. Eager, she uses her flashlight to guide her way around the room whilst the group behind her slowly filter in. Her fingers brush upon tables carved from stone, covered in so much dust her skin comes away grey - _ absolutely wonderful _.

“What’s this meant to be?” comes Gallagher’s voice from the other side of the room. He follows in her footsteps, though his eyes seem to be much more focused on finding something shiny, rather than dusty.

Lara takes a moment to respond, too busy eyeing the table at the head of the room. “I presume some sort of meeting chamber.” she says, and approaches. At the far end, shining in the white light of her flashlight, she can see one much longer table, with seats placed up against the wall on the other side. There are six, she counts, and three have the upright bones of Lux Veritatis sat in them. One more body lays sprawled beside their seat, bones scattered under the table. She wonders where the two others were supposed to be. The men and women here were presumably killed abruptly with little to no warning - how had the others escaped? Had they simply not attended this meeting?

She hops up the few stairs to the table, and circles it, coming along the side where the dead rest. Before the one sat at the far right side of the table, there’s something before him - papers? Excitedly, she shines the light down the table, but these seem to be the only ones present. Regardless, she carefully picks up a sheet, squinting her eyes to read from it in the dim light.

“Kurtis, come see this,” she calls, and without question he comes up to join her. Peering over her shoulder, he leans close as she flicks through the few precious sheets of paper left behind. “It’s almost similar to the ones from Italy,” she whispers, and is grateful he is so close, for they can keep this between them. She can feel his breath on her neck, and it’s strangely relaxing; it warms her, at least.

“Yeah, look at the writing,” he pokes a finger around her back, at the second sheet she holds. “They’re the same symbols. Strange though, it’d be way too convenient to find what we need right away.”

She nods in agreement. “Usually it’s a lot harder than this. Maybe this time we can just be thankful it’s not taken more effort?”

Kurtis’s eyes flick up to her under his hair. Despite the dark, the piercing blue hue is strangely bright. “You really think it’ll be that simple?”

There’s a shrug in response. “Sometimes it is. You fell into my lap when I needed you, didn’t you?”

His eyes crinkle a little when a smirk tugs at one corner of his lips. “I don’t know if locking you in an airlock was me _ falling into your lap _.”

“Neither was stealing my painting, but it all worked out in the end, hm?”

She only realises how close they’d gotten to one another when another voice calls from the darkness.

“Croft! Where the hell’d you go?” it’s Gallagher, and a light comes stumbling from behind a half-collapsed pillar. Abruptly, Kurtis steps back, and it’s suddenly cold. Lara, as hastily but carefully as she can, folds the papers in her hands, and tucks them into her back pocket. It’s getting thick with all the ancient paper now. 

“Here, Mr. Gallagher,” she responds, and blinks harshly when the flashlight shines directly at her. “I don’t suppose you’d appreciate a scene like this?” 

At her gesture of the table, Damien’s head tilts curiously. “Dead folks, sudden but looks mostly painless. They wouldn’t still be upright if it hurt.”

Strange indeed. If these people were Lux Veritatis, then wouldn’t it have made sense for their bodies to be more disfigured? Especially considering how visceral Kurtis had made Eckhardt’s hunt of them sound. Perhaps that was what had happened to the other two members of this collective, taken from their fellows in an attempt to- what? Learn something? It doesn’t sound unlike Eckhardt to torture someone to find out what he wants.

“Here, look.” he continues. He rises from a crouched position with a grunt, straightening his back. He comes closer, and extends a hand - in it is some sort of bottle, half crushed. “Poison, maybe? A traitor among the sods killed them all?”

“I doubt it, they seemed like a loyal bunch.”_ aside from the runaways, of course _. “Maybe they knew their end was coming, and so they took their own lives before it could. It would make sense, if they were scared they’d be forced to give information they held.”

Damien gives her a smarmy smile. “Very good, Ms Croft, very good indeed. I would’ve assumed the buggers murdered each other and be done with it.”

“Not everyone is quite at your level, Mr. Gallagher.”

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“I wouldn’t pit you above doing the same; mercenaries have no honour. A client offers you money and you’ll do anything.”

He barks a laugh. “Very bold coming from one who’s a glorified graverobber.”

“Yes, well, there’s a difference between graverobbing and preserving history.”

“Whatever you say, Ms. Croft.”

Lara begins about the room again, determined to find something _ more _. An undisturbed place like this, surely there’s a goldmine of resources and history here. She follows the wall at the far side of the room, running her fingers along it; there are natural dips and rises, weathered away with time. It’s certainly tragic how long these people have lain here, forgotten and never given a proper burial. Sometimes that’s all she wishes to do, to take the time to bury those history forgot and wish them well in whatever comes next. She allows men like Gallagher, who don’t understand, to insult her and shame her as a thief, because she knows the truth. That is all she has ever cared about.

Her fingers come away covered in a thick layer of dust and grainy sand. She’s covered in it now, but that’s just the first sign that she’s doing the job right. Her path around the room almost fully loops her around the space, but her flashlight catches something in the light. Curious, she bends; some sort of display case, made of a heavy wood like that of the chairs, is on its side at her feet. With a grunt, she rolls it onto its back, snapping the old latch open. She lifts the dirtied top, and the contents shine back at her in the flashlight.

“A Periapt Shard?” she murmurs to herself, confused. There’s no denying what it is; she’d handled three in recent memory, she was familiar enough with their design. The same curved shape, of a bone white hilt gripping to a blade of a metal the colour of obsidian. This one, however, looks almost unfinished - the intricate sculpting at its head, of some sort of face, is missing, instead ending in an abrupt lump. The blade is jagged and rough, and looks like it would never pierce cardboard, never mind an ancient, undying alchemist. 

As quietly as she can manage, she slips her backpack off one arm, and unzips it. Storing the shard away for later, she reminds herself to show it to Kurtis when they are alone. 

“Croft!” comes an abrupt call from the other side of the hall, and she almost jumps; she had half thought someone had seen her stashing secrets. 

“What?” she responds, pulling her backpack on fully. No one had noticed. 

It’s Lucas’ voice again. “Have you found anything yet? How long will this take?”

“You can’t rush something like this.” she huffs, “It could take days to find something of note.”

“You don’t have days, find something.”

And so she looks. Despite her initial fear - perhaps even because of it - she realises that, shockingly, she’s having fun. Whilst she scours the dark room for scraps of information or remnant of the past, it returns to her, the reason why she would do this every waking moment before Egypt. During the events in Paris and Prague, she had felt something faint and familiar when she had delved into the Louvre dig, or the bizarre ruins beneath the Strahov. Now, even with the New Order and the Jackals breathing down her neck, she _ remembers _. Sure, she has yet to fight more undead, insects or various wildlife, but this experience, this anticipation of searching, of knowing there’s something valuable hidden amongst the wreckage - this is why she raids. 

She thinks, after scouring this room with no results, that it might have to be a trip down the hole for her. Contemplating more, she gathers the group and conveys the idea. Lucas very clearly doesn’t want to waste more time, but he doesn’t look _ excited _ at the thought of plunging into the depths. 

“I’ll go with Ms. Croft.” says Gallagher, and she’s as surprised as she is irked. 

“I really don’t need your help.” Lara insists, folding her arms in annoyance. “Besides Mr. Gallagher, you don’t strike me as a kind of man who can climb with enough grace not to lose his grip and die.”

“Then at least let me come with you.” offers Kurtis. It doesn’t at all surprise her, but she had half expected him to do it regardless. So far, he’s rather liked getting in her way. For once, she doesn’t mind all that much - he balances it out with being helpful from time to time.

So the pair begin a descent into the abyss. She takes it steady and manages the climb with ease. Kurtis, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be finding it as easy, and more than once stone chips under his grip and she thinks he’ll fall. It startles her more that her heart pounds with every one of his slip ups - she doesn’t like how much she’s beginning to care for him. Lara Croft always works alone. She can’t go on now to like him enough to convince him to stick around.

“What do we have?” she murmurs to herself when their feet touch ground once more. Shining her flashlight about, she can’t see much as of yet - Kurtis joins her after a moment, brushing off the sand on his clothes as if he hadn’t had multiple brushes with death as of recent memory. 

He joins her side, and tosses a flashlight of his own before catching it, and flicking it in. “Split up?” 

“You know, Mr. Trent, I do have to wonder if among your other bizarre talents, mind-reading is one.”

In the dim, she can see a smirk on his lips. 

“Maybe you’re just rubbing off on me more than you think.”

Lara catches herself smiling. “Do be careful, though,” she says, as she begins away, “Last time we split up _ someone _ got themselves captured by an old man.”

“Old man with a hell of a wicked glove.” he mutters as he stalks away in the opposite direction. She scoffs - sore spot then.

She begins, as she did above them, by tracing a hand about the room. There’s rubble, and heaps of sand to trek over, and a few old bones. From the looks of things, there’s enough hunks of stone here to have formed an entire floor above their heads; perhaps once, this hole had never been here at all. Still, it is worth checking.

“What’s your guess then?” she hears Kurtis call from the far end. He seems to be doing a sweep much like her - she wonders if she _ is _ rubbing off, or if he simply has great general practise.

She sidesteps an enormous mound in the sand. “One of the few Lux Veritatis bases? I suspect Eckhardt raided this place - maybe even made this crater himself.”

“And the guys upstairs?”

“Killed themselves - poison.”

Kurtis scoffs. “Huh, not usually the style of the righteous.”

“But that of the desperate, Kurtis.”

“Or martyrs.”

His dislike of the old Order definitely comes through stronger than any of the other runaways. Shaking her head, she continues to look. Usually, she should have found something more by now; only two potential leads after almost an hour of searching? Most unlike her. Perhaps she was rusty. She’d spent a good portion of a year chasing a man in a coma, but not before being buried alive, living to tell the tale, and then getting framed for a string of brutal murders. She would let herself off. 

She checks Winston's pocket watch from inside her jacket pocket. It was coming up to six in the morning - they had been waiting for the Jackals to clear a path for far too long. Hastily, she shoots across the abyss, and thankfully finds Kurtis with relative ease.

“We need to leave,” she says with haste. “The riddle said the path would only be open under the light of the moon. We’re risking it by staying until dawn.”

“What do you think’ll happen at dawn?” he asks, a curious brow quirking.

Shaking her head, she searches for the way that they came - it’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack with this darkness. “I don’t know, but I would rather not stay to find out.”

And so, after hearing a call from Gallagher to help them place themselves, they begin their climb up. In the almost-silence, she can hear the hands on her watch ticking softly - it would be nerve-wracking if she didn’t thrive under pressure. She takes riskier but faster jumps, swinging between outcrops of rock and crevices in the wall to heave her way up. Her arms burn but it’s a good feeling; she knows she’s doing it right that way. Kurtis, on the other hand, is slacking behind, and sure enough he may be trying his best, but it’s oh-so-slow compared to her. She reaches the top and ignores the offered hand of the Jackal Captain, checking her watch.

“We need to get out of here,” she relays to him as well, “This place will most likely close or worse at dawn.”

“Or worse?” Damien echoes, and if she didn’t know better, she thinks he’d paled. 

She waits for Kurtis while staring at her watch. On her own, she would have left this place with plenty of time left over, to study what happened when the sun rose. Now, for once, she felt nervous - _ this _ is why she worked alone! Being responsible for another person in danger only slowed her down, and worryingly, made her panic. Her heart pounds with each second the hand ticks away.

“Croft, what are you doing? I thought we were leaving!” Lucas calls. She look over her shoulder, to see he and his Veritatis have already began scaling the stairs. 

“We are. Get out of here.” 

“Wait - where’s Kurtis?”

_ Great _, she thinks, as he orders his lackeys outside. He joins her at the edge, leaning down to see where Kurtis was exactly. Despite how much she would love to push him, or let him be caught up in whatever happens at dawn, she knows Kurtis wouldn’t be pleased. This irks her - since when did she care? She was supposed to act according to what suited her, and having one less man to fight over supernatural power was a boon. Still, she didn’t, and waited as patiently as she could for Kurtis to scale the wall. 

When he was close enough, she and Lucas extended a hand at the same time, almost as if planned. Seemingly immediately, Kurtis takes hers, sweaty and covered in sand. She heaves him up just as there’s a horrifying sound - shrieking, so loud and piercing her ears ring for a good few seconds afterwards.

“Let’s get outta here.” Kurtis grunts, but reloads his gun for good measure.

As the safety of her own pistol clicks off, she hears another - Lucas carries his own weapons it seems, not just Gallagher. He goes to take the lead, but Lara quickly puts a hand out in his path. She cannot wield both pistols with a flashlight, so her free hand shines a light in their direction. “There’s something there,” she says.

"Banshees." Kurtis says quickly. She shoots him an odd look, and she notices Lucas pales. 

"Fill me in?" 

"They're fast and vicious. Don't move." he talks slowly, as if trying to avoid moving too much with each breath. "I’ll give you the history lesson later - you just need to know they can kill you instantly.”

She quirks a brow and then scowls. "Delightful." then, "Can _ we _ kill _ them _?" 

Lucas scoffs, then freezes. His eyes nervously look around in the dark. Suddenly, she feels something other than anger, or distrust towards him - he looks like a startled deer, afraid. She feels this inexplicable desire to protect him, like a child. 

“We can’t, not without Periapt Shards, and they’re still in Echkardt’s chest.” Kurtis says, though his voice is much softer than it was before. He’s holding himself so very, very still.

She gasps in a harsh breath - she hears something at her feet, scratching at the ground. Across the toe of her boot drags a claw so long she wonders if she imagines it at first. Then come more, that curl upwards like a disfigured hand, pointed claws at her ankle. This is usually about the time she’d aim her gun and pull its trigger, but something tells her that is a very, _ very _ terrible idea. And yet, there’s a _ bang _. 

Smoke rises from Lucas’ pistol. There’s a terrible screech, and the claws at her leg peel away, and a horrible, greying creature curls inward on itself in the dim light of her torch. As they leave her, one tears at her skin, slicing a jagged but shallow line in her calf. She resists the urge to flinch, only because she hears more screaming in the shadows. 

“What the hell did you do?” is all Kurtis can manage in question, before his own gun fires into the dark. Another scream echoes back - it’s all Lara can do but resist clapping her hands to her ears. It’s deafening. 

It’s time to move now. She vaguely knows where the exit is, up the slim set of stairs that barely fit her feet. The light cast by Lucas’ flashlight - forgotten and discarded on the ground - shows him making a dash for the exit, and she can just about make out a figure beside him. There’s a wail as she puts a bullet in it instinctively, and the banshee goes down.

With a panted breath, she yells, “What the bloody hell are those things?” 

She’s seen a lot of things, but living banshees are another. They’re a perfect but garbled mess of the images represented by mythos, slim and skeletal creatures covered in a thin layer of grey sinew. She was already familiar with their claws, but she had yet to meet their faces. In all honesty, despite her curiosity, she didn’t want to. 

“Shit,” is Kurtis’ only response. She sees him duck - and he makes a hasty grab for her wrist as he goes down. They both tumble, as a banshee crashes into the wall behind her. “No hiding then - shoot the fuckers.”

Lara doesn’t need to be told twice. Pistol in one hand, flashlight in the other, she scrambles after Lucas - who has long since vanished up the stairs. She can hear Kurtis behind her, but there are screams all around. It’s both terrifying and exhilarating, mostly terrifying; she’s never faced these creatures, who seem so adept at hunting humans she wonders if it’s yet another secret of the Lux Veritatis hidden from the world for centuries. 

She hears Kurtis yell out in pain behind her, and - surprising herself with how fast she reacts - spins, and fires as soon as the flashlight finds her target. The banshee whose claws had dug into his shoulder was now on the ground with a hole in its chest. Or, what little chest it had.

Without a second more to feel his pain, he pushes forward. His hand pushes into her, rushing her forwards, and she knows well enough when not to press things. Turning, she continues the mad dash for the stairs, and finally, she sees the faint light of dawn shining down into the shaft above her. So close, so very close - just a little further. 

Something crashes into her. It knocks the wind completely out of her, and she cries out in pain as her back is thrust into a solid stone wall. She hits her head too, but it is the least of her concerns - horrifyingly long talons clench at her throat. A stench so terrible hits her as the banshee screeches right at her, so close to her that she thinks she might lose her nose were its jaws to close. 

“Lara!” she faintly hears - her head spins.

Suddenly she collapses to the floor. The creature had dropped her, so strangely and so easily. A new hand grasps her arm, pulls her up to her feet - she stumbles into Kurtis’ side. It takes a second, but her vision steadies, and she scrambles up and away, towards the stairs. She scales them in a hurry, varying between her feet and her hands as well as she makes the last push to the surface. Kurtis is behind her, but so are the banshees - wailing so loud it echoes to the sky.

Finally, the break the surface. Hands grab her - it’s Lucas, shockingly - and pulls her away so harshly she stumbles after him. There’s a terribly loud bang behind, almost like an… An explosive?!

“No!” she yells, pulling away from Lucas just in time to see the entrance collapse in on itself.

After a short moment, the dust settles. The stone that once held up the passage into the Lux Veritatis outpost is crumbled inward, sand draining into its cracks. As the sun dawns upon the desert, she notices something - a thin, clawed hand reaches skyward in the wreckage. 


	11. Chapter 11

Kurtis had not, in fact, been buried alive in the ruins. Lara tries to tell herself that she was so distraught at the idea of losing access to the outpost, not the fact that she thought he was still inside when the Jackals set off the bomb. Seconds after it had gone off, she’d realised he was laying in the sand, panting for breath, mumbling something about how they were “even,” after he got that banshee off her. She wasn’t aware they were keeping score. 

When has she gotten so soft? Not even when she worked with Werner had she been so concerned about her partner, and he was miles less capable of handling himself than Kurtis was. Very quickly, she'd let their strictly-professional relationship become far too personal. After their brief alliance in Prague, they'd allied again - she'd taken him to her home, took him along every step of the journey, let him use every resource she owned. Why was she being so  _ nice _ ? It wasn't like her, especially not with men. Her track record wasn't very good for past partners, but she wasn't exactly generous with women, either. She wasn't a very friendly woman at all. 

Yet here she was - in the middle of a desert under a burning sun, helping a man she'd only known so briefly. Despite their little acquaintance, there was no shortage of curiosity within her to find out more. Another red flag, really, but considering how much fate liked to push him in her path, she didn't fret too much. She was perched in a chair underneath a canvas canopy, the documents she recovered from the outpost in her hands. All around, Jackals are being so typically loud for a mercenary group, yet she's too busy examining something for them to get any attention from her. Usually, it would be the ancient information or a time long past that would enrapture her so fully.

She is staring at Kurtis. 

She's not ogling. No, Lara Croft doesn't do that - she simply admires. He's working alongside Jackals to open a way back into the outpost after someone so carelessly blew it up. Hot and sweaty, he continues to work even when some of the mercenaries give in and swap with their colleagues. In the hot desert sun, his shirt clings to him, defining every curve of his muscles, his chest. Casually, she brings a hand up to fan herself; the air is hot indeed. 

If he is working, so should she. Reluctantly, she tears her eyes from the sight bathed in sunlight, and looks to the plastic desk folded out before her. Kurtis had - surprising her - entrusted her with his notebook, so that she might try to understand something in the texts she found. Much to Lucas' annoyance, he had finally agreed after much argument to allow her access to a laptop, on which they had some Veritatis records from Esmee and Clive. As she perused through their information, she found they were sufficiently well-organised, but there was not much to be helpful more than Kurtis' information. 

She took the opportunity to brush up on some history the whole lot of them seem to know but her. The Lux Veritatis, according to their records, is hundreds if not thousands of years old - but she knew that. Their Order began from Holy Templars, but nowhere in the records does it suggest where they gained their supernatural powers. Skipping over some unimportant facts, and the parts about Eckhardt she already knows, she reaches some recent history - specifically, the last hundred. The war between "light and dark" had been waging for centuries, but it only began in earnest once more when Eckhardt escaped his captors in 1945 - "War bombing, presumably," Lara mutters to herself, and scrolls down. Then on he made it his personal vendetta, and that of the Cabal, to hunt down the Lux Veritatis that had imprisoned him for five hundred years. 

She scans over the rest, a rough timeline estimated by Esmee of how the Cabal tore down the Order. Worryingly, it seemed to be a very, very past process. It took the Cabal a measly fifty-seven years to take down the entire Order - after five hundred years of safeguarding Eckhart, they were reduced to nothing after barely half a decade. There's a list of some notable figures in the Order that lost their lives - leaders of a sort, she supposes. She recognises two, immediately. One, a Mr. Vasiley; that poor man had almost survived the whole ordeal, unfortunate that he died before she could reach him in Prague. The second name: Konstantin Heistuurm, Kurtis' father. He's described by Esmee to be the "last bastion" of the Lux Veritatis, the man who led them into their "final days." The girl thinks highly of them, much like those under his protection must have. 

Then she freezes. In the list, there's more names. The majority of them she doesn't care about, she doesn't even notice them. There's one name that she picks out without even willing herself to. Just one name. 

_ Von Croy. _

It's not Werner. It can't be Werner, she'd never, ever seen any possibility of it. And yet the list does not state another name, no first name, nothing. Simply Von Croy. There are some files among this one in Esmee and Clive's collection dedicated to single members, and yet when she hastily looks, she cannot find any titled the same. 

"What the bloody hell?" she breathes to herself. Was Werner descended from members of the Lux Veritatis? It couldn't be true - from what she knew from Kurtis, it was a hereditary position. If Werner's father, or his father's father, or anyone before that was, then surely he would have been raised in a similar fashion? And why would he have accepted a contract from Pieter van Eckhardt if he knew he was the Black Alchemist? 

There are footsteps in the sand. She doesn’t bother to look up - she’s busy, and whoever needs her attention will announce themselves soon enough.

Sooner comes even faster than she cared for. “What’s wrong with your face, Ms. Croft?” asks Gallagher, who stands just underneath the shade of the canopy. He folds his arms, and she looks up only briefly to notice Lucas is with him. The Captain adds, “You look like someone’s booted a puppy.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my face, Mr. Gallagher, that is merely how it looks.” she spits. She is fully aware of how screwed up her brows are, and how the frown twists her features into a scowl, but she isn’t here to please, least of all him. 

Lucas snorts. “Tell that to a mirror.” he says, coldly, and then, “Have you got anything to tell us yet?”

“Not yet. You cannot simply rush things like this.”

“I thought you were supposed to be good at this stuff - you  _ are _ the tomb raider, no?”

“Impatience is one of the great follies of men, Lucas.” she growls. That’s something she learned very, very early on - and from Werner, no less. How could he not tell her about the Lux Veritatis? Surely he had a reason. Then there’s still the chance he wasn’t caught up in at all - yet it doesn’t add up. Something is missing.

“Come now, my friend,” Gallagher addresses Lucas with a smarmy grin. “Let us leave lovely Ms. Croft to her work.”

Lara grits her teeth as they leave to check on the rough excavation. “I’ll show you lovely when my foot is up your arse.” she mutters. Annoying her whilst she’s already pissed only serves to bring out a very angry woman with guns. Not a good result for anyone.

The revelation about Werner must wait. If their interruption was good for anything, at least it reminded her of her task. She owes it to Kurtis - who, when she looks, is still irresistibly hot in the desert run. Instead of wasting more time, she looks at his notebook. Honestly, she had been surprised when he offered it to her. 

“ _ Just don’t forget where you put it _ .” was his only request when he’d handed her it. When she’d gone to take it, his hand had held it even tighter to add, “ _ I’ve had that too long to lose it, be careful _ .” and then release it. 

“ _ I’ve spent my life as a semi-archeologist, I’m as careful as can be _ .” had been her reassurance. 

Curiosity gets the better of her. Flicking through the pages, she simply has to stop here and there to examine rough pencil sketches decorating corners, or taking the spread of an entire page. There’s a study of a Periapt Shard across two pages that’s strikingly good, with a short entry underneath in his swift hand. 

“ _ Guy approached me on the street in Paris - shady. Told me dad’s dead. Why is this shit always my problem?” _

There’s not a date, but she assumes it must be from roughly before they met. He was in Paris before her, then. She wonders why - had he lived there? She can’t quite imagine him living anywhere. 

Lara feels a little guilty for snooping. But, as per usual, curiosity gets the better of her. Kurtis is still busy, and though she has better things to be doing she just  _ has _ to see more. It’s hard to know what’s going on in his head. She flicks through the next few pages - bits and pieces about Eckhardt, how he was going to “ _ kill that sick son of a bitch _ ;” more on the Veritatis; then, shockingly, an entry about his own mother that he seems to mostly have covered in enough ink to hide the majority of what he wrote. Must’ve been risky to leave it in. 

Then there’s her name. Surprised, she sees there actually is a date - she had lost track of days then. There’s a newspaper clipping stapled to the page directly over it - the photograph of her and Werner that hit news outlets. Above, it’s titled, “ _ Renowned archeologist, murdered. Suspect, jealousy. _ ” 

“Ridiculous.” she scoffs, angrily. She almost screws it up before reminding herself it doesn’t belong to her. As if she would ever murder her once-beloved friend for a bit of envy - it wasn’t even solely his find!

The clipping, though she had simply gone into autopilot and not noticed until now, was written in French. She had translated it without thinking. Realisation hits her - she knows exactly what newspaper this was taken from. The same newspaper he had hidden himself behind in the seedy little Caf é Metro in Paris, though she could so clearly see his eyes peeking at her over it. He wasn’t very good at hiding interest, and thus wasn’t very good at feigning it in silly French news sources.

On the page beneath the clipping, his writing reads, “ _ Saw Lara Croft today - hot enough but got no time for celebrities. Either stupid or real brave showing her face in daylight after that Monstrum bullshit. She’s been framed, Eckhardt’s after her. Asking about some Bouchard guy - gonna follow. She’ll lead me to the bastard that killed my father. _ ”

And now things make sense. Folding the newspaper back on top, she stares at the old image, at Werner’s smiling face. One thing led to another - Werner’s murder, her escape from the police, the Louvre. Back then, she had no idea why Kurtis was following her. She had, upon first glance, assumed he knew  _ something _ , but even then, he knew the truth of everything. Why hadn’t he stopped her in Caf é Metro, told her what he knew? It would have saved so much trouble - they could have been partners from the start.

She’ll confront him about it eventually. For now, this document  _ has _ to give her answers. And, with the help of his notes, she’ll understand it. Somehow.

-

It’s nearly dusk by the time she’s got it figured out. Much to her annoyance, the Jackals had very nearly cleared the entrance - leaving only a spare bit of rubble to safeguard in case of banshees - and had decided that was quite enough work for the time being. In front of some nearby tents, they’d set up a fire, and, in true mercenary fashion, began to drink and sing. It took every ounce of self-control to refrain from shooting a bullet into the sky to shut them all up.

She wasn’t alone, either. Lucas was lying in the sand, his head resting beyond the edge of the canopy, staring at the night sky - appreciative of nature’s stars, at least. Gallagher had found himself a seat atop a stack of crates, picking at his nails with the sharp end of a tactical knife; unfortunately he had yet to slip and cut himself. Those other two Lux Veritatis runaways - who had yet to introduce themselves officially to her - the skinny girl Andrea and that man Samir, often share menacing looks that then turn back to her. If it annoyed her as much as they thought it did, she would’ve shot them by now. Thankfully, the shock of Werner’s secret had much worn off by now.

Finally, Kurtis was beside her. He looked so very tired, but thankful for the night sky shutting out the sun. For the last hour or so, they’ve been working together to decipher the last parts of the information. Unlike her, he was familiar with every note he’d taken in his book was, and was able to deftly cipher through pages to then tell her various words that they could interpret from the texts. He also took advantage of Clive and Esme’s logs on the laptop to brush up on some things, but it wasn’t long before they ran out of power and it seemed, despite their over-preparedness on everything else, Jackals were idiots when it comes to electronics. No cable.

“Does it make sense at all to you, though?” she asks, over the rambunctious noise of the Jackals around the campfire. There’s so many of them, a good two dozen, and they will not  _ shut up _ . She continues, “It implies a use of some sort of pedestal. Did you see one down below?”

He shrugs, and doesn’t look up from his notebook. He’s frowning again. “Maybe, we didn’t get to check out the whole hole.” he snorts. “‘Cuz of the banshees. What I’m worried about more is the next part.”

“What do you mean?” 

Kurtis sets his notebook flat against the table in front of her. He uses his finger to point between words in the texts, and then the notes in book. 

“This here - it means impale, or stab.” he says, using two fingers to gesture. “And then the next one - shard. The only shards I know of are in Eckhardt’s corpse.”

“Periapt Shards.” she murmurs to herself. Then, she glances upward at the others around her. None of them are listening, nor paying any attention - they’re fully on their own for this puzzle, and she’s grateful, for she pulls her backpack into her lap. Her voice lowers. “I found something last night that may interest you.”

He frowns. “Last night?” he whispers, “Why am I only finding out now?”

“It’s a little hard to keep secrets in a camp like this.” 

He doesn’t respond - if anything, his frown deepens at the word  _ secrets _ , like she shouldn’t even consider it. Ignoring the way he’s looking at her, she unzips her bag. No one looks up. She reaches in, and grasps a handle, slowly withdrawing the unfinished shard. Upon seeing it, Kurtis’ frown immediately dissipates.

“What the hell?” he says, taking it from her when she offers it to him. Still, to her annoyance, he no longer whispers. Lucas very quickly sits up at the noise, and his brow quirks at the sight of the shard.

“I agree with that sentiment - what the hell is that meant to be?” he pokes a hand in his direction. Gallagher looks too, and at the sight of anything dagger shaped, he smiles. 

Kurtis glances at Lucas. Then, at her, but then decides to look back at Lucas once more. Her blood boils - he very obviously ignored how much she glared, how she pleaded him not to say anything. Why does he trust him?  _ How _ can he trust him? Angrily, she looks away - it wasn’t his home that was broken into, it wasn’t her hard earned spoils that were stolen. 

“There were relics in my father’s possession - Lux Veritatis relics.” he begins, and flips the shard in the air, catching it, blade outward. “Periapt Shards, the only things capable of killing the Black Alchemist, and his angels.”

Gallagher throws back his head and laughs. “Angels? You’re pulling my leg, I didn’t think you Veritatis the religious type.”

“Fuck that,” Kurtis says abruptly, “I’m not. But they exist - Nephili. That’s what the Black Alchemist has been doing for years, that’s why he destroyed the Order. We could stop him from resurrecting the Nephili and he was scared of that fact.”

“You  _ could _ stop him.” Lara echoes, and with a smug smile, stares up at him. “But you didn’t.  _ I  _ did - don’t make it sound so glorious when your Order did nothing.”

“Who made it possible for lovely Lady Croft to kill him, huh?” Kurtis narrows his eyes at her, but smiles back - overtly sweetly. “You wouldn’t have stood a chance without me, princess.”

She barks a laugh. “Ha! Yes, and you would’ve found the Obscura painting on your  _ own _ , too. You wouldn’t have stood a chance without  _ me _ .”

“Wait,” Lucas begins, “She couldn’t have really killed the Black Alchem-”

“I would’ve been perfectly capable of finding it alone.” Kurtis snaps, cutting off Lucas entirely. “The shit down there was my area of expertise, it was Lux Veritatis ruins for fuck’s sake.”

“You’d know it wasn’t ruins if you’d gone down there.” Lara hums, then stands abruptly to poke an offending finger in his chest. “Oh wait, you didn’t! Because you let me go down there alone to do all the hard work, and then you’d  _ steal _ it from me the first second you got!”

“I didn’t steal shit. It was nothing to do with you from the start.”

“Then why, pray tell, did you let me get it?”

Kurtis comes very, very close. With a cold smile, he says, “Because you were a useful tool, sweetheart.”

She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of being offended. She does, however, let him in on how absolutely  _ furious _ she is. 

“Go fuck yourself, Kurtis.”

Quickly, she rips the shard from his hand - cutting her fingers on the jagged, unfinished blade as she does - and stomps past him. He lets her brush past him, but not without shoving her shoulder into his. He doesn’t even bother to ask her where she is going, the only resistance she does get is Gallagher attempting to stop her from walking off, but Lucas calls him off. They let her go with no further issues.

What a…! She doesn’t even know how to summarise her anger into one word. How  _ dare _ he? Who does he think he is, using her to do his dirty work? She could forgive sending her to kill Echkardt for him - he took the hit fighting that monstrous Boaz, and she did it willingly for the greater good. He had sacrificed a long-planned revenge to let her go one ahead. But  _ everything else _ she did in his place. She figured out the traps and puzzles in the Hall of Seasons, fought scores of undead, battled that oh-so-irritating ghost of Brother Obscura. All to retrieve a painting he would steal from her, and then just hand over to Eckhardt by being careless! And if the snippets in his journal were the truth, then all the things before the Louvre, and all the things after,  _ she _ did first! He merely followed her and let her do everything. 

And the part that angers her the most, is that it  _ hurts _ .

It was so obvious, so blindingly obvious, and she had ignored it. Why? Because she  _ cared _ for him?

“Tosser.” she mutters. 

Lara reaches the entrance to the outpost. She checks her watch - sufficiently enough time to begin. Without exerting herself by rushing, despite her anger, she clears the remaining way - some large stones that once blocked her path lay to the side now. From her backpack she produces the last of the glowsticks from the Himalayas. Cracking them all in one satisfying motion, she heads inside.

No man can get under her skin enough to stop her raiding a tomb.


End file.
